A Game of Chess
by Altariel
Summary: Faramir, Éowyn after the fairy-tale wedding. Mithril Awards - Winner, Voters' Choice, Best Het.
1. Chapter I

A/N: In my other fannish lives, I write political psycho-dramas in which people routinely interrogate each other and lead borderline lives of extreme violence and moral ambiguity, usually on board spaceships. So this is something of a departure for me, and I have no idea how well it works or whether this is what people were hoping for from such a story. I can, however, point out that were no spaceships. Let me know if you like it and if you do I'll get Faramir to tell me some more. There's tons to write about, the wedding not least, and it's infinitely more pleasurable then, um, chapter 3 of my thesis. Oh, and I only just noticed I'm posting this on Valentine's Day!

Altariel

*******

**A Game of Chess**

_Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair_

_Spread out in fiery points_

_Glowed into words, then would be savagely still. _

I

Minas Tirith had never, I think, beheld anything quite like our wedding. These ceremonies, between the noble houses of Gondor at least, are most often orderly affairs, with careful attention to legal formalities and the elegance of the language of the vows, which has even, I believe, become somewhat a source of rivalry between certain families. Moreover, as the generations passed and Gondor waned, marriage acquired something of an air of solemnity, as if to impress upon the couple the heavy responsibility they bore in maintaining the bloodlines of Númenor. 

But the wedding of the Steward of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan was much less sedate. From the moment the entourage of King Éomer arrived in Minas Tirith, a week before the event was due to take place, the city acquired an air of celebration the like of which I could not recall ever seeing before. It was naught so grand, of course, as the mood that had surrounded the marriage of the King and Queen the previous summer, but it did seem that the people of Minas Tirith were treating our wedding as if it were taking place between members of their own families. As I went about my business in the city, I was stopped seemingly at every corner by men who wanted to give me their wishes for happiness (gratefully accepted), women who wanted to know about my bride's dress (I knew nothing), and all those who wanted to give such advice, comment and opinion which, it seemed, they believed it was their duty to offer (politely heard). After three or four days of such attention, I retired completely to the Steward's house on the seventh level. Indeed, I hid. 

The morning of the wedding itself was bright and warm, a flawless day in the middle of August, but it found me downcast, since I had fallen to thinking how these events in both Rohan and Gondor were customarily family occasions, and I felt keenly my own lack in this respect. I would have been glad even of the presence of my father, although the thought of what he would have said of the disorder that had been brought to the city on my account was enough to make my heart quail. But I missed my brother most acutely, since I knew the delight he would have taken in the whole event, in particular my own discomfort at all the attention. 

Thus my uncle found me, late morning, standing with arms folded before the large window in my study in the Steward's house; and I was frowning as I looked upon the sunlight which shone down upon my green gardens and gleamed off the White Tower beyond the wall. 

'You have the air of a hunted man,' he said by way greeting. 

I gave him a small smile. 

He came to stand by me. 'It is a glorious day,' he said, 'and likely to become even more lovely. But seeing your face I think, perhaps, that your mind is less upon the woman who is to be your wife and more with those who will not be here today.'

'You have ever read me too easily!' I answered. 'But I cannot help but wonder how they would be on this day.'

'Your father would be insupportable and your brother would be drunk,' he said bluntly, and I ran my hand through my hair and laughed. 'Now stop brooding, I beg you, and be happy for once!' he commanded, laughing in his turn.

'How was my lady this morning?' I then asked, for it is the custom in Gondor, on the morning of a wedding, for the groom's father to deliver to the bride a gift to welcome her to her new family. Since I had no father living, it had fallen to my uncle to perform this duty for me; and, indeed, upon reflection, I found I could not imagine my father carrying out this task for me and was glad that it had come instead to my uncle. I wondered now whether this, as much as war, was part of what had prevented me even thinking about marrying before; I also knew that had my father lived, I would not have been marrying the woman of my own choosing, but whomsoever he had instructed me to wed. Perhaps it would still have suited our alliances for the heir of the Steward of Gondor to marry the sister of the King of Rohan, but my father would, I think, have preferred and chosen for me a Númenorean wife. 

'She was very lovely, very happy, and very nervous,' my uncle replied. 'At least one of which applies to you also, I see,' he added, glancing down; for, as had seemed to become my custom when anxious, I was twisting the silver ring of my stewardship which I bore on the smallest finger of my left hand. 

I put the hand behind my back. 'And did she look favourably upon the gift?' I had chosen for her, from out of my mother's possessions and which had been passed down the female line of her family for many generations, a blue gem in a silver setting shaped like a swan, upon a silver chain. And it pleased me very much to have given Éowyn something which belonged to my mother and which bore with it a connection to Dol Amroth, and even more it pleased me that my uncle had been the one to deliver it to her. For, while nothing was of greater consequence to me than my role as steward and head - and sole surviving member - of the line of Mardil, yet it was into my living family that I wished most to welcome Éowyn and by them have her loved as much as I loved her. 

'She thought it very beautiful, and when I told her whence it came she thought it more so.'

'I am very glad,' I said softly, and chewed absently at the thumb of my right hand. 

He reached up and drew my hand away. 'Come and eat something,' he said. 'We have some hours yet.'

'Indeed, uncle, I hardly feel like eating - '

'Maybe not, but it might at least stop you fidgeting and thereby make you less maddening to watch.' He smiled upon me once again; and, before we turned to go as he had suggested, I clasped his arm, and he took mine, and I thanked him for all of his many kindnesses to me, in which throughout my life he had been better than a father. 

Four hours after noon, we left the house and went down into the court of the fountain where the marriage was to take place, before the White Tree; and the sunlight caught on its silver leaves. Already gathered there, stretching back from the Tree along the keel, were many of the folk of Gondor and the Mark, and from many other realms; for, whatever I may have preferred, this was unavoidably an event of diplomatic significance. I looked upon all those gathered there with dismay. And I seemed to have stopped moving, for my uncle gently nudged me forwards until at last we came to the White Tree. Two tables had been laid out there, covered in white cloths, and each bearing a sword and a gold ring. We stopped beside the one on the right hand side, the whole assembly behind us, looking on, and I could hear their murmuring. 

The King was already there and greeted me with a slight frown. 'Are you quite well?' he asked with quiet concern, and when my uncle started laughing under his breath, the King caught his eye and a smile spread across his face. 

'Mm,' I answered thoughtfully, staring at the ground, unwilling not to answer the King, but unsure of my voice. 

'Look,' he said softly in reply, and I raised my head and saw that coming towards us, from the White Tower, walking with her hand upon her brother's arm, was Éowyn; and, once I had seen her, all my worries were driven from my mind. 

I heard behind me a few murmurs from the ladies of Minas Tirith, for my bride was not wearing white, as was the custom in Gondor, but had instead chosen to wear midnight blue, and it was edged and embroidered with silver thread, and I knew that she wore these colours because so she had been clad when we had stood by the walls in the Houses of Healing, and the shadow had departed, and we had clasped hands for the first time. And about her neck she wore my gift to her, the swan pendant of my mother's, and her hair was bound back from her face but hung long and loose down her back, and it shone in the sunlight. And she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her; even more so than the first time I beheld her, because now she was not sorrowing or sad, but radiant and smiling as I had most desired to see her. 

The King greeted us both and all our guests; and first we paid attention to the customs of Rohan; and this meant I gave to her my sword, for her to hold in safe-keeping for our sons. My uncle passed it to me and I held it by the hilt and offered it to her, saying, _'Ic giefe þé þis ecg. Geheald hit swā þæt úre bearnas hæbben and befæsten hit.' She smiled merrily, and I knew I would suffer later for my accent. But she took the sword and looked upon it; and it was the sword with which I had for years protected Ithilien, and then used in the defence of Minas Tirith. And she looked at me with great love, before passing it to her brother until the ceremony was over. _

And then she had to replace my sword, so that I might be able still to protect our home and family; and handing me the sword her brother gave to her, she said, _'Þæt þu nerien ús, þu sculest beran ecg. Mid þissum ecge nere úre ham.' And I took it from her, and I was greatly moved for, although the blade itself had been shattered, this was the hilt of the sword with which she had slain the Witch-King; and I looked at her and marvelled as I did almost daily that a woman so fearless and fair should consent to be my wife. _

And I passed the sword to my uncle, and we turned then to the traditions of Gondor. A year ago, at Edoras, we had given each other silver rings; and these now we gave back to show that we had held firm to the promise we had made then; and she set hers on my right hand, and I set mine on her right hand; and then we gave to each other in the same way gold rings, as a sign of the strengthening of the bond between us. Then her brother, in place of her mother, took her right hand; and my uncle, in place of my father, took my right hand; and they brought them together, and facing each other we joined them. And then the King asked us to speak to each other our vows. Great store we set in Gondor on the speaking of these vows; and they are written anew on each occasion by each party, and not until they are spoken does the other hear them. My lady spoke first: 

'From Rohan to Gondor I come to thee; in love I bind myself to thee; and so I swear to love thee and honour thee all the days of our life together. So say I, Éowyn, Éomund's daughter, of Rohan.'

And in return I said to her, 'By your presence you heal me; with your love you honour me. And I offer thee in turn my love and my honour, and I swear to thee my constancy throughout all the days of the life we begin here today. So say I, Faramir, son of Denethor, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor.'

And then the King confirmed that he had heard our vows, and that all we had done was in accordance with the laws of both Gondor and Rohan; and I became her husband and she became my wife; and at last we embraced and kissed in the sunlight as the White Tree shimmered before us. 

Drink flows freely at any gathering of the men and women of Rohan, and at a wedding even more so. Now, I do not particularly care for being drunk; indeed, whilst living in my father's household any such loss of self-possession would have been disastrous. The most I had ever drunk on a single occasion was in Ithilien, after I took a spear in the side and, in order to distract from both injury and surgery, I ordered Damrod to hand over a bottle of brandy that he had kept hidden for months. I drank half and then fainted gratefully. It had seemed to me the least worst of my choices, even taking into account the quality of the brandy, since I like the sensation of pain somewhat less than the sensation of being drunk. I am certain that at least some of my habitual restraint was in place throughout the wedding feast, but I do recall at one point late in the evening embracing tenderly both my uncle and my new brother, and telling them at great length and with, under the circumstances, remarkable eloquence of my deep love and admiration for each of them; how I had not known it was possible to be this blissful; and that I was certainly the most fortunate man ever to live and breathe. So I am forced to conclude that on this occasion too I may well have not been entirely sober. At least I can be thankful that the King had not been standing nearby for me to include him in my eulogy, which I undoubtedly would have done if presented with the chance. 

As the evening drew to an end, I stumbled off in search of my wife - and how well I liked to say and even simply think that word - and I saw, looking down from the keel onto the levels below, that the whole of Minas Tirith was alight, with lanterns shining along the streets and on the buildings, as the people of the city celebrated too the great happiness of the Steward and the White Lady. And as I made my way on I saw, looking back, that further down along the keel the King of Rohan was now deep in conversation with my cousin Lothíriel and, indeed, very lovely she looked, with her long dark hair and her sweet and laughing manner, and he seemed quite entranced by her. 

I found my wife talking to my cousin Elphir, the eldest son of my uncle the Prince, and, coming up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her in close to me, and I kissed her on her neck and her skin was soft beneath my touch; and she leaned her head back gently onto my chest and closed her eyes briefly and smiled. Then, with a quick movement, I swept her up into my arms, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, and threw back her head and laughed out loud; for there was one more old custom from Rohan about which I had read, and she had realized that I remembered it. Very risky it was considered for the bride to walk across the threshold of her new home, since if she stumbled it was an ill omen, and so she should be carried. And I did so, as our friends and our guests watched on and laughed, and I took her home. And I shall, for the moment, stop here; since to go further would not be gallant. 

***

A/N: For the Gondorian wedding ceremony, I used the account Michael Martinez gives in _Parma Endorion (http://63.249.237.140/parma_endorion.pdf) of the ceremonies conducted by the Eldar. It seemed reasonable to think that the Númenoreans would use some version of this too, although perhaps changed a bit to account for the passage of time and, also, the probably more rigid and patriarchal structure of late Gondorian society. I lifted the details of the Rohan stuff from some Anglo-Saxon wedding vows and customs, taking bits and pieces which I liked. I came to the conclusion that the people of the Mark would jump at any chance to have a big party and drink a lot and quite right too. _

As for the Old English: Faramir says (I hope): _'I give you this sword. Preserve it for our sons to have and to use.' Éowyn answers (possibly): __'To keep us safe, you must bear a blade. With this sword keep safe our home.' _

Who knows if it's accurate? If you do, and it isn't, then please tell me! It's a long time since I last wrestled with a subjunctive. I would love to know how well I did with a vocabulary list, a basic grammar (links to both of which I found on one of Dwimordene's pages here on this site -- thank you!), and a pretty limited and now mostly forgotten classical education. 

The whole chess thing will make sense eventually, I promise. 

Altariel


	2. Chapter II

A/N: I put the original chapters 1 and 2 together, and this is now the new chapter 2. Another departure for me - a new voice. Hope it sounds OK. Seemed to make sense for each of the parties concerned to get their say too (thanks, Deborah, for the inspiration!).

***

II

The morning after my wedding I woke very early, and I lay looking at the sunlight on the pale walls while my husband slept beside me. And my thoughts turned to all that had happened during the day. Although I had awoken feeling somewhat nervous, by the time my brother and I left the White Tower, I felt a serenity cover me that I had never known before in my life, and it came to me that perhaps I was at last feeling real joy. So I was most surprised then, on reaching the White Tree, to see, since I knew this was a man who had stood firm in battle against the Witch-King for two days, that Faramir's face was almost as grey as his eyes. But as the ceremony continued, I watched his composure return and, by the end, he was flushed with happiness. And if I was aware that we were standing before the King throughout, this thought was in my mind for only a moment, and seemed to me of less importance than the fact that we were standing before each other. 

As the day went on, my feeling of peacefulness had grown and grown; although there was one moment in the evening when I looked out across Minas Tirith and caught a sight of lights on the river, and thought how beyond there was my new home; and all of a sudden I was filled with a deep longing for Edoras and I knew I would greatly miss it. How different the court had been since he had become King, more how I thought it should be from song and story, and I did not like to leave him there alone now. And then a great sadness filled me as I thought how happy my brother and I had been in Edoras in recent months, and that now I was leaving my home. And it seemed to me strange now to think that not long ago, I would have preferred death than to remain trapped there living. 

Then someone gently took my arm, and I saw it was my new cousin Elphir. Very like to his father he was; and in only a short time I had come to love the Prince of Dol Amroth and his family for they were brave yet gentle men, very like to my husband. The Prince's son now talked softly about how glad he was that now I would be here in Gondor for so he and all his family would see more of me; and he thanked me for the great happiness I had brought to his cousin. Then he pointed to my brother, who was deep in conversation with his sister, and I saw gladly, for I know my brother well, that he was very close to falling for her. And as we spoke, I felt arms put around my waist from behind me, and a gentle kiss placed on my neck, and I thought I would sing for joy. But instead I found myself laughing, as he picked me up and I realized he had remembered the old and foolish custom I had once mentioned, and was teasing me. 

Great attention my husband had given to the accuracy of the ceremonies and customs of both Gondor and Rohan; much more, I confess, than I had troubled myself with, and I knew that he had been worrying himself for weeks about using my language in front of such a large and public gathering. I smiled to think of it. For, despite all the time he had spent in Edoras, and for all his otherwise great gift with speech, he still failed to speak my language like one born to it. The first time he had used it in conversation with my brother, taking great care and with absolute concentration, Éomer had put his head down on the table before him and nearly wept with laughter. He knew my brother's manner well enough by then not to take offence, although I do not doubt he was at least a little wounded. For he spoke it like the scholar that he was. His diction was more perfect even than my brother the king's. But it was not a language to learn through books; it was a language to be lived and spoken and sung. And although he had improved greatly, he would always, I deemed, sound to anyone in the Mark like a man of Gondor speaking a little too precisely a tongue that was very much not his own. And this irked him greatly, partly on my account, and partly because it was the only language he had ever studied in which he had not achieved mastery; and, most modest of men he might be, I think this did offend his pride a little.  

This then was the man now lying on his back beside me on the bed, fast asleep, with his left arm across his chest and the other bent behind his dark head; and his skin was very pale and the lashes covering his shut eyes very long and dark. And I lay and watched him for a while as he slept peacefully. Then I blew into his ear. He jumped, pulled a face, and screwed open his eyes. 

'How you sleep, lord! Have you tired of me already?' I asked plaintively. 

A look of great tenderness spread across his fine features and sleep-heavy eyes. I had never met a man whose feelings were worn so openly for all to see. He would not, I think, have done well at the court at Edoras while it had been under Wormtongue's sway and, from all I had heard, he had indeed suffered badly at Minas Tirith. Was the new court, I wondered, more to his liking?

'Never,' he said, tracing a finger very gently down my cheek and throat and down onto my shoulder. 'Never. To look upon you is to behold a summer morning filled with promise.' 

'My lord, have pity on me!' I laughed. 'It is far too early for poetry!' 

'It is never too early for poetry,' he said severely, sitting up beside me and putting his arm about me. 'What would be more to your taste then?' He tapped his forehead. 'I have a great deal committed to memory - love poems, rousing choruses, epic verse. And in several languages.'

'You might recite to me something in Rohirric,' I suggested. 

He snorted. 'Ridiculous language,' he said.

I swore at him in it. 

'How things have changed already,' he remarked. 'You never said that to me before we were wed.' 

'I did not wish to corrupt you entirely during your stay at Edoras.'

'I heard your brother say it often enough; it is, I think, one of his favourite expressions.' A line creased his brow. '_Corrupt me?' he said. 'I must ask, how much of an innocent do you think I am?'_

'Not an innocent,' I said, after a moment's thought. 'But a good man.'

He bestowed a kiss very gently on the top of my head and we lay in contented silence for a little while. 

'When shall we set out for Ithilien?' I said eventually. 

'Thinking on my troubles passing through the city earlier this week, perhaps we should flee under cover of darkness.' He stretched and yawned. 'I do not mind. We could stay here for a while, if you wanted.'

'I would prefer to go to our new home.' For, although I did not say it, I did not much care for the Steward's house in Minas Tirith which, despite all the changes my lord had made since he had become master of it, seemed to me still haunted by the ghosts of Denethor and Finduilas. Knowing nothing of my thoughts, he glowed with pleasure at my reply, for I had not seen the house in Emyn Arnen since its completion, and I knew how much work had been put into preparing it for my arrival. 'But how then shall we escape the city unscathed?' I asked him. 

'I thought we might scale down the rock face,' he said. 

'A little perilous, perhaps. We could climb down the shoulder of the hill. It is not so high there, if I remember aright.'

'Not that way, I think,' he said, a little too carelessly, and I cursed my forgetfulness, for I recalled now that there lay the Silent Street, and he had been that way only twice since he had learnt what had nearly befallen him there, and the last time had been to retrieve the crown for the Coronation. I did not think he would willingly go to that part of the city again for the rest of his life. 

I took the hand which was resting on my shoulder. 'Then,' I said softly, 'we may after all have to bear passing through the city and seeing how much the people love their steward.'

'And his wife,' he added chivalrously. 

'That much, I think, can go unsaid.'

As he had guessed, it took us hours to leave Minas Tirith; and this was mostly on account of the fact that my husband's courtesy prevented him from not responding to anyone who wished to speak to him. In the end, we abandoned riding, and walked down to the city gates from the fourth level. But we exchanged a look of great relief when finally we quit the city, got back upon the horses, and rode as quickly as we could for Harlond. But when we had crossed the river, we slowed again, for now we were in Ithilien, and I wanted to see more of the land. As green as the fields of home it was, although more lush; and there were many flowers that were unfamiliar to me, and they perfumed the air around me as I breathed in deep. The afternoon was lazy, and it was hotter than in Rohan, stiller and less dry. We rode now in silence, or now he would point out to me a place that he knew, or I would ask him a question about the land through which we passed. Mostly we were quiet, more than happy just to be in the company of the other. The ground rose and fell beneath us as we rode, and in time we came to Emyn Arnen. 

The house lay in a small valley, but we did not go there straightaway, for first I wanted to see the stables, and very fine they were, and I was much satisfied. Then we went through a little gate, and through a small and scent-filled garden, and onto a wide lawn, and so we entered the house. 

In Minas Tirith I had found many of the buildings too grave and forbidding, oppressive even; the ancient stonework and engravings seeming to press a great weight of history onto those still living there. This house, too, as most in Gondor, was built in stone, but it seemed somehow lighter. The hall in which we stood ran the height of the house, and it was light and cool, a relief from the hot summer outside. Here and there, set back in the walls were placed various pieces and ornaments, and now and again I saw something of my own. 

'I tried to set out your belongings as close as I could make it to how they were in Rohan,' he said, and I knew he would have spent days attending to this. 'But I don't doubt you'll move everything in time,' he added with a laugh. And I took his hand and we wandered off to explore the rest of the rooms together. 

A great gift the Prince of Ithilien has for making all about him peaceful, and here in Emyn Arnen he had had one of his greatest successes. Our home was sun-drenched, spacious, and very serene; the gardens about it fair and green and touched with the grace of the people of the Wood; and I knew without a moment's doubt that we would be happy here. 


	3. Chapter III

A/N: OK, you get some plot now. I merged the original chapters 1 and 2 into a single chapter, and posted a new chapter 2, so don't get confused there, and make sure you've not missed a part. 

***

III

Several months passed before I went out on patrol again with the Ithilien company. My duties as Steward meant my presence was now often required in Minas Tirith at sessions of the Council; and indeed we had much to concern us, for negotiations with the Haradrim were ever in a delicate state, and there was a growing threat from the East, where we watched with concern the alliances forming between the chieftains of those far realms. It would not be long, we believed, before their eye fell on the west, and Gondor, their enemy of old, still only beginning her restoration. But with Emyn Arnen so close, it was rare now that I remained in the city rather than ride back to my home and my wife. I had become well used to making the journey in darkness, as once I had ridden time and again between Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, but then there had been no treasure so dear awaiting me at either destination, nor such a sense of homecoming. 

Ithilien was now Gondor's easternmost borderland and its defences my chief responsibility. North of the Crossroads and along the river as far as Cair Andros and many leagues south of Harlond I was most contented with our strength. Some hardy souls had even returned to rebuild their homes in the lands south of Henneth Annûn. But the Ithilien company had suffered great losses in the war and, south of Emyn Arnen, our defences were in a parlous state. With the threat from Mordor removed, I had sent much of the Osgiliath company down to Poros, where we deemed any blow from Harad would land first. With a small force patrolling the border north of Henneth Annûn, I now had most of the Ithilien company policing the land south of Emyn Arnen. It would be years before I could contemplate turning my attention to reclaiming Minas Ithil and Morgul Vale, and Ithilien still suffered from the presence of remnants of orc-bands and outlaws. If ever I wanted my princedom to be again the Garden of Gondor, home once more to all those who had been dispossessed, its lands would have to be made secure. In all these matters my lady took great interest; and her opinions proved to be well-founded, her analyses trenchant, her suggestions sound. 

Yet I delayed returning myself to active service. I had now spent more than twenty years, the whole of my manhood, in the army, and under the shadow of increasing threat. This brief taste of peace, even in these still somewhat uncertain days, I found was much to my liking. What relief it was no longer at all times to bear a sword, or feel weighed down by mail, or sleep outdoors in fear for my life and the lives of the many under my protection. No desire had I ever to do any of these things again. Emyn Arnen was tranquil, my books and studies engrossing, my wife's company enchanting. I would happily have closed the doors on the rest of the world for good. 

But I could not put off the day for ever and, with regret, I prepared myself for a tour to see first-hand Ithilien's defences from Henneth Annûn to the crossings of Poros. Éowyn, I believe, would willingly have accompanied me and, while I desired always to be near her, yet I could not quite picture her, in all her grace and loveliness, sleeping in a cave in north Ithilien, or camped in a ditch just off the Harad road. It was not quite where I wanted to picture myself. Vainly she protested her ride with the Rohirrim from Edoras to Mundburg, for I held firm on the matter. War had interfered too much in my life already; where my wife and my home were concerned I would brook no such intrusions. The peace we had at Emyn Arnen I held inviolable. 

Great merriment there was among the men, upon my return, at my array of new titles. Many older members of the company recalled at great length how they had known the Prince of Ithilien when he had first joined the army, and I saw that this particular vein of humour would be mined for years. And there was much interest in the sword I now bore, and many wanted to look upon it to see a part of the weapon that had slain the Black Captain, whose servants had butchered so many of their friends. My choice of wife was judged by all the decision of a man of great wisdom and I was, naturally, most obliged to have the blessing of the Ithilien Rangers in this matter. I could see now that I had done my company an injustice delaying for so long my return, for I had forgotten too easily that these men were my comrades and my friends, and that I had entrusted them with my life again and again, and they had never failed me. 

But one afternoon in late December, I was again wishing to be at home, for I was lying face down in freezing rain waiting to waylay a band of orcs that had been sighted thirty miles south-west of the southern foothills of Emyn Arnen. Water was pouring down my face and neck, and I thought longingly of my comfortable home, my lovely wife, my warm study, and my beautiful books. Mablung, stretched alongside me, was chuckling under his breath at my discomfort, for he knew that not only had I delayed the whole summer before embarking on this tour, but that I had only come out with this patrol having woken to see a pale but steady winter sun in the sky. Clearly he was of a mind that I deserved my drenching. 

The band of orcs, when it came by, was wretchedly small and I knew we would dispatch them with ease, for we outnumbered them, and they appeared to be starving. The lands in Ithilien were now becoming too fair and too well defended to allow these beasts to sustain their miserable lives. I gave the order to attack gladly.

What overcame me then I have never suffered before and I pray to the Valar I never shall again. I took on the orc captain and, while I still remained in my right senses, I knew this would be an easy fight that would be over quickly. But then I was plunged into a state which was almost as to a nightmare. My vision seemed to narrow; and all colour leached from my surroundings, save black and red. The foul face before me seemed to flicker, as if lit by flames. And then the noise began; terrible and engulfing, filling my head fit to burst. Every sound around me gained in intensity - the yells of my foe, the shouts of my men and, worst of all, the pounding in my ears. And all this seemed to be taking place across an age - although it cannot have been as much as ten minutes - and I became aware of a rising panic in my breast that the fighting would never end, and that I would be forced to keep on until I dropped dead of exhaustion or despair. 

All of a sudden through this roaring came Mablung's voice, calm but insistent.

'Captain.' 

The noise seemed to abate somewhat. 

'Captain, it's dead.'

I looked up at him, then down at the body at my feet, which was hacked and hewed by my own sword and fury. I licked my lips, which had become unaccountably dry. 'Let us get this filth cleared away,' I said; and then, with a sudden burst of rage the like of which I had never felt before, I took my sword in both hands and plunged it once more deep into the creature's heart, and drew it out savagely. 'Ithilien has been defiled for far too long.'

We dealt with the bodies and, if the others seemed somewhat subdued as we went about this task, I put it down to them feeling as tired as I did myself. We were not far, perhaps two miles, from one of our shelters, which lay very close to the river. And I, at least, was keen to wash the filth of the fight from me, for the rain did not seem to cleanse me enough. Again, we spoke little as we made our way across the green grass of south Ithilien. We reached the shelter in the late afternoon, and the others set to straightaway lighting a fire and preparing food. I went directly to the river, and my hands seemed to require much in the way of scrubbing before I was satisfied they were thoroughly clean. 

When I returned there was a good fire blazing, and I ate a little, but did not feel much hungry. The talk around me was desultory and I was, in truth, somewhat distracted, for I thought I could hear faint echoes of the day's earlier skirmish ringing in my ears. I forced myself to concentrate on what the rest were saying; and it seemed they had fallen to talking about the retreat from the Causeway Forts. All of us there had fought our way back from Osgiliath, and they had all gone on to fight in the battle on the Pelennor - service given while I had been lying in a fever and subject to my father's unhealthy ministrations. 

I realized I was being spoken to. 

'What do you remember of it, captain?'

'What do _I remember?' I paused, not entirely willing to sift through the memories I had of that day. 'The noise, chiefly.' I said at last. 'I remember the noise. People crying out as they were hurt, and the enemy jeering. Myself, shouting orders...'_

There were a few small smiles here.

'And the shrieking from above...' I did not need to say more on this, I saw, as shadows passed over the faces of the others at just the thought of the winged terror. 'And then, the singing. People were singing. That was just before I was wounded.'

'Ah, captain,' said Mablung, with feeling, 'when you started on that song, I thought my heart would break. I thought we were finished, and then somehow you managed to start singing!'

I looked at him in wonder. 'When _I started singing, you say?' _

He looked back at me oddly. 'Aye, captain; it was you who started it.'

'Are you sure?' I glanced around. The others were nodding. 

'Captain,' Mablung said, 'I've served beside you for nigh on fifteen years. I think I recognize your voice by now. Especially your singing voice,' he joked gently. 

When I could speak again, my voice was thick. 'I didn't know... I didn't know that. I have no memory of that. No memory at all.' And then, all of a sudden, my head was in my hands, and I was weeping. 'I thought... At one point, I thought I had been struck dumb. I thought I would never speak again, that I would die without being able to speak again. And then the singing started and I found my voice had come back, and that I could join in with it. And now, it seems I wasn't dumb. I wasn't dumb at all.' And I covered my face with my hands for the tears kept on falling and would not stop. 

When at length I had controlled myself, I looked around to see that only Mablung and I were still sitting there. He had, it seemed, sent the others away. I raised my head to look at him directly.

'You and I both have seen this from many men,' he said without preamble.

'But not, I think, from one who might soon find himself commanding an army,' I answered, wiping my face with the back of my hand. 

'Aye, that's true enough.'

I shifted slightly where I was sitting. 'Still,' I said slowly, 'it is not uncommon to find oneself overwrought when recollecting a battle. And it is, after all, the first time we have spoken together of the retreat. Indeed, I think it is the first time I have spoken of it at length at all.'

'That's all very well, but it's not just that, is it, captain?' 

I shot him a stern look. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Can I speak freely, sir?'

'By all means.'

'I saw how you were earlier today. That wasn't a small and hungry band of orcs you were fighting there.'

'Clearly it was - '

'No, captain. The amount of fury you put into it? I think you were fighting the retreat again. Whatever you were seeing - or hearing,' he said, and gave me a sharp look, 'it wasn't a wet afternoon in Ithilien with a bit of shouting and the river going by.'

And indeed it had not been. 

'And if you want my advice, sir,' he continued, 'then - put your sword away soon. Because you and I have both seen what happens to men who don't take warnings like this seriously. And we know it's not pretty.' 

'That, alas, is easier said than done.'

'You could command the Ithilien company from behind a desk in Minas Tirith! This is a good set of men; you should know, you trained them. Plenty of people here ready for more responsibility, even if we did lose so many in that cursed retreat.'

'It's not the Ithilien company that troubles me.' 

'Well, sir,' he said, 'I don't spend a lot of time worrying about politics, so I don't know if there's going to be a war, or if Gondor can have some peace now - and the Valar know we deserve it - but I'd say that you need to think hard about whether you really can fight another campaign. It's not as if you have anything to prove. There's not that many people did as much as you did, and came through the war a hero, without getting themselves killed doing it.' He paused. 'Well, there's your wife, of course,' he said. 

'My wife,' I murmured. We were but thirty miles from Emyn Arnen. There was a courier post a short walk up the river from where we now lay where I could get a horse. I could be back at home by this evening - but I was due to ride south the following morning. 

'I think you should go home, sir,' Mablung said gently. 'Get a bit of rest. The Poros station can wait a couple of days, surely?' 

It did not take much more to convince me of the wisdom of this, for I could still feel myself trembling. The rest of the patrol eyed me anxiously as I told them of my new intentions, but they would not allow me to ask their pardon for my behaviour that day. We had all, indeed, seen before someone to whom this had happened - but that was no comfort to me, since such loss of restraint on the part of one's captain was a serious matter, and I felt the failure keenly. The Valar be praised this had been such an easy fight. Under other circumstances, I could have cost them all their lives - and they were good and brave men, who deserved better. 

I walked up river and, as I went along, I was overcome with shame. Always I had been compared unfavourably with my brother in matters of war, and my courage deemed less than his, and I had struggled hard to prove that, even if I could not be his match, I was at least my own man and capable of conducting myself well in battle. But now it seemed those assessments of my character had been quite correct. I could not conceive of Boromir weeping at the memory of a battle, or ever feeling the way I did now. For, as I walked along the river in the rain, I understood that the thought of combat no longer simply displeased me. It sickened me. 


	4. Chapter IV

A/N: Did anyone for a moment think this wouldn't get angsty? vbg My favourite Jane Austen novel is _Persuasion, none of those sparklingly ironic marriage comedies, thank you very much! BTW, for anyone, who like me, is thinking, 'Shouldn't this woman be doing some work?' I'm pleased to report that the reading for chapter 3 of the thesis is now well under way, and the first tiniest inkling of its content is starting to trickle into my head. Looking at my fanfic word count in the past three weeks, I see with horror that it's around 25,000 words, which is just under half of a PhD thesis. Wonder if they'd take all this as a submission? _

***

IV

I would have liked to travel with my husband as he went on his journey through Ithilien for, as his wife and the Lady of Emyn Arnen, I believed it my duty as much as his to care for the realm and its people. Was I not of the house of Eorl, a house of kings? Had I not been judged worthy of leading our people while the King and my brother had ridden out to battle at Helm's Deep? Was I not a warrior as much as he, capable of wielding a sword and standing firm in battle? And while I loved our home and our life together, I was eager, even restless, to see more of the land in which I now lived, and its people, to whom I wished now to devote all my energies and care. 

He rode out from Emyn Arnen on a grey morning early in December; saying farewell with much regret, and speaking of his great desire to remain here at home in peace. It was on the tip of my tongue to offer to exchange places with him; but I restrained myself and, after one final fond and loving embrace, we said goodbye, and he rode off northwards. And the house seemed diminished without him; as if some of its soul had departed. I rode out daily along my usual haunts, but they seemed a little sadder, and the weather was bad, and the house too quiet upon my return. The Lord of Emyn Arnen valued greatly the serenity of our home, and often we had no need for speech; but still his company brought great consolation and our silences were those of people who did not need to talk much to understand what was in the mind of the other. But this quiet was not the quiet that we shared together. I could, of course, have gone to our home in Minas Tirith, where the King and Queen would, no doubt, have welcomed me and insisted on keeping me company throughout - but, despite my love for them both, I found the city itself somewhat stifling, and the intricacies of life at court tiresome. I preferred to remain in the country - but I missed my husband badly. 

But as December wore on, I became glad that I had not gone on the journey with him, since I became first very tired, and then ill. Some mornings I would struggle from bed coughing and retching, and then return in exhaustion to spend much of the day shivering under the covers. And I was most mortally afraid for, until I had been wounded and succumbed to the Black Breath, I had barely had a day's sickness in my life, always enjoying my strength and good health, and the pleasure I took from being active, walking and riding. I began to think that the darkness was descending upon me again, and I desperately wanted my husband to return. Very foolish I must seem - but I had no mother, no sisters, and I had grown up among men, that I admired greatly and wanted to be like, and whose talk I had made my chief concern. I had a head full of horses, weapons and battles. It simply did not cross my mind. 

Lying miserably in bed late one morning, with the curtains drawn and the room dark, and believing that I was truly going to die, I heard the door to my chamber open, and in came Haleth, our maidservant. I heard her tut quietly as she saw I still lay abed, and then the curtains were drawn back and a pale winter light filled the room. I screwed up my eyes and hid deeper beneath the covers. Then I heard a soft sigh, and felt her sit by me on the bed. 

'You know, my lady, you can't stay like this forever.'

'I feel so dreadful, Haleth,' I whispered.

She looked at me kindly. 'I know, my dear,' she said, 'but it's not as if you're the first woman ever to have a baby.'

My face must have given me away, for she looked utterly shocked, and then a great wave of pity passed over her features. 'Oh, you poor girl!' she cried softly, and reached out to wrap her arms about me as I burst into tears. 'Did you really not know?' And then she held me tight and rocked me gently in her arms until my crying abated. She spent the rest of the day fussing about me, getting me washed and dressed, and we talked long, even managing to laugh at how I had imagined I was dying, and she explained to me how I would feel over the next few months, and what I could expect at the end. But I found all of a sudden that I missed my mother for, although her absence had been a constant in my life still, at this time, I wished above all things to have her near me. How foolish that too must seem, to want the presence of a woman I had never known. But Haleth was kind when I told her this, and I slept well that night for the first time in more than a month. And as the next week or so went by, I found myself wondering what it might be like to be a mother myself, and I even became a little excited, particularly when I thought of telling my husband the news. 

One wet evening towards the end of December, when I had curled up in bed early to be warm and comfortable, and as I was beginning to drowse, I heard the door click and, looking up through sleepy eyes, I saw with great surprise that my husband was there. I had not expected him back for at least another fortnight. I sat up to greet him, but he seemed to have stopped to lean for a moment on the chest that stood opposite the bed. Even in the half-light I could see the strain across his shoulders. 

'My love?' I murmured.

His shoulders hunched a little more, and then he slowly turned to me. His hair and clothes were wet, and he looked exhausted - haggard even. I was reminded of the closed, pinched look his face had worn the first time we had met in the garden of the Houses of Healing. A great fear enfolded me. 

'I was not expecting you home so soon,' I said. 'Is something amiss? Are you ill?' 

His mouth screwed into what I thought he intended to be a smile, but it seemed very bitter. 'Ill?' he said, giving a short laugh. 'Indeed, no - I am in fine physical condition.' And then he started to unbuckle his sword from about his waist. As he set it to rest against the wall his fingers seemed to linger for a moment upon the hilt. Then he pulled his hand away, and began to undress in silence. 

I shifted to my side of the bed - for while he had been away I had taken to sleeping in the middle so as to feel less lonely - and watched him as he climbed in beside me; then he reached over to blow out the candle, and the room was in darkness.

After a moment, I felt him reach out for me and wrap his arms about me. His body was frozen. I curled onto my side so that my back was pressed against his chest, for so we always slept, and I felt his face burrow into the nape of my neck. 

'You are so cold...' I murmured. 

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I rode some way, and it was raining.'

I bit my lip, then continued, 'Tell me what troubles you.'

He sighed deeply. 'Not now. I am so tired. I want nothing more than to hold you and to sleep.'

And so I did not press him, and we lay in silence. But after a little while he spoke again, in a halting whisper. 'Think you... think you ever about the war, Éowyn? About your part in it?'

I was now becoming alarmed, for while I had often seen his face grow sad, particularly when he was thinking of his brother or his mother, I had never seen him in a mood as dark as this. I twisted a little so that I could catch a glimpse perhaps of his face, even in the darkness. I could just make out his features, and I was sure that he was crying. I did not know what to say. 

'Sometimes,' I said, caressing a cold hand. 'And I am filled with fear and great dread. But you taught me to live beyond these things.'

He did not answer me, and I was afraid I had misjudged his mood. Then he kissed me softly on my neck, and I felt the tension in him lessen somewhat. 'Thank you,' he murmured, and then he did not speak again and, after a short time, I heard his breathing change, and knew he had fallen asleep. But I lay awake for some time, and I was most anxious; and confused also, for this was not the homecoming I had imagined, and I had not yet told him my news. It was an hour or so before I drifted off myself into an uneasy sleep, thinking that my husband's gift for peacefulness could also, seemingly, lend itself to bleak silences. 

Very early in the morning, I woke suddenly, for I had heard a cry - and I realized that my husband was shouting out in his sleep. I shook him, and eventually his eyes opened and came into focus on my face. He was sweating and shaking, so I put an arm about him, and he leaned his head on my shoulder, gulping for air. He had often talked about how he would dream, but he had not done so since we were married. 

'I'm sorry,' he said at length. 'Sorry to wake you.'

I stroked his dark hair. 'What was it you dreamt of? Was it the wave?'

A shadow passed over his face and he shook his head. 'It was naught... naught of consequence. Just a dream.'

I could not make him tell me what was distressing him, but I could perhaps make him feel better. So I told him my own news. 

His face was utterly transformed. His mouth creased into a wide smile, his eyes lit up, and he began to laugh. He wrapped his arms about me and started planting kisses all over my face and neck and shoulders. Then he started talking; about how happy he was, how clever I was, how delighted all would be; then he started talking about the respective merits of sons and daughters, and then names for boys and names for girls, and when he had exhausted these and many more topics, he returned again to his initial theme of his great happiness and my exceptional cleverness, about which I privately felt he was making rather too much. But eventually I too was laughing and chattering with him, and the shadow of the night before was completely dispelled. In the mid-morning, after we had risen, and we were sitting together looking out onto the garden and holding hands, I asked him whether he intended to leave again soon for Poros, and he brushed the matter aside, insisting that it was of greater importance that he remained near me in my condition. This was plainly not the whole truth, but since I did not want to tell him of my own fears while he had been away, about which I felt ridiculous - for who would ever have thought that the Lady of the Shield-arm would be brought so low by so small a matter - all now seemed fair, and as we were both again happy, I did not insist he share with me the cause of his disquiet. 


	5. Chapter V

V

Early September in Ithilien was perhaps its loveliest time, for the summer heat had passed, and the air became less heavy and much cooler, and yet the flowers lingered and all was still green. We, my family and I, could remain in the garden until well in the evening; and so we could be found, this particular evening. I lay on my front on the grass, my head propped up on one hand, with a book open before me; and on a seat nearby rested my wife, her face most serious, her attention on our new son of eight weeks. She had not been in good health before and just after the birth, for the heat had been too much for her, but I was glad to see now that some colour was returning to her face, and that she was beginning to see more of the child, for she had seemed to take little interest in him at first. This had grieved me, since I was captivated by him, and for us not to share the joy of these first weeks of his life seemed the only blemish on our happiness. 

And I greatly desired all to be peaceable at home, for I had much to concern me elsewhere. Not in the governance of Ithilien; that at least was going well. After my failure the previous winter, I had stayed away from the company for more than a month. I told my wife that this was so I could be near her while her condition was delicate; and it was true that I did not want to be far from her at that time. But I also did not want to worry her with something about which she could do naught, for I felt this was a matter upon which I needed to reflect more myself before confiding in another. And, in truth, I still felt deep shame at what had happened, and I did not know for certain what my wife, who honoured valour above all and was so brave herself, would make of a man who could no longer bring himself easily even to touch a sword. This part of my silence I regretted the most, for I knew that she had seen that I no longer went about armed and, I believe, it hurt her, since the sword had been her gift to me on our wedding day. But she had much else to occupy her mind, and she did not speak to me of it. 

Out with the company itself, there was never a single mention of what had occurred, only silent acceptance that now the Captain no longer led from the front. For I still of course continued to journey regularly to Henneth Annûn, and to our outposts at the Crossroads and Poros, and throughout the country; but I did not patrol, and I knew that it did not go unmarked, although it did go unmentioned, that I no longer bore so much as a knife. And I was moved by and grateful for all that the company did, quietly but steadily, to aid me; for on my return I saw that they had reordered their operations to be able to accommodate a commander who, to his great grief, could no longer serve them as well as they served him, and as well as they merited. It was in large part their loyalty that allowed me to govern Ithilien with any measure of success. For despite what I had believed less than a twelve-month ago, given my state of mind, would be insurmountable obstacles, Ithilien prospered. The northern marches were quiet and increasingly settled, and some people had begun to return to parts of the south, in the main around the road east of the river and south of the Crossroads, and in Emyn Arnen. And further south, too, the people of the Wood brought with them a grace which seemed daily to settle more and more upon all of Ithilien. 

But on this warm and tranquil evening in September, my thoughts were less on the satisfactory consolidation of my princedom, or even on the joy I was brought by my wife and my son. They were on the East, and what I understood now was the inevitability of war, and also on the conversation I would soon have to have with the King about my incapacity, of which he was as yet unaware. The day before, I had been in council in Minas Tirith, and we had heard again entreaties from the people of Dale, who were suffering incursions on their eastern borders, and had called upon their allies in Gondor to aid them. And while the King had been mindful to heed these entreaties, I had felt it imperative to query hard the wisdom of taking Gondor back to war so soon - and I knew in my heart that at one moment in our counsels my opinion had not been objective. For any army which Gondor sent eastwards would be under the command not just of the King but, as his second, one of the two chief nobles of the land - the Princes of Dol Amroth and of Ithilien. And I guessed that I, as the younger man, would be the King's first choice. I instantly and deeply regretted my flash of temper in our deliberations, and, however brief it had been - and it had passed unnoticed by most present - I had caught the eye of the King, and he had been frowning at me. And, having spent the day thinking hard about the matter, I knew now that I could not delay any longer informing him that if Gondor were to go to war, I would not be able to fight in it. It was my intention to ride to Minas Tirith to speak to him either the next day, depending on Éowyn's health when she awoke, or the day after. And how I dreaded this encounter, for it seemed to me it would be the worst of my failures, to be unable to serve in any way he asked of me the man that I loved and admired above all others. 

I looked over at my wife, who had handed our son back to the nurse, and now sat with her head resting back and her eyes closed. Then I turned back to my book, but it was not holding my attention, and I closed it with a sigh and instead rested my head upon it. Then I stretched out flat, shut my eyes, and tried to empty my mind of all is cares, listening instead to the gentle sounds of the evening. 

'I am glad to see peace comes at last to Ithilien,' a voice said. 

I opened an eye, twisted my neck and looked up at the King of Gondor.

As I scrambled to my feet, he went and spoke briefly to my wife, and then turned to me. 'I think I would like once again to have a sight of your remarkable study,' he said, and bade farewell gravely to Éowyn, who smiled at him, and so we went indoors. 

Chaos reigned as ever in my study, and I hastily moved a pile of books from a chair and gestured to him to sit. He looked at the uppermost volume. 

'Are you still wrestling with Rohirric?' he asked in frank amazement. 'I had imagined you would have abandoned that vain pursuit long ago!'

I ran my hand through my hair and laughed. 'If I claimed that volume was purely for the purposes of research, would you believe me, I wonder?' I picked it up and leafed through it. 'There are some customs about gifts to the mother of a new child that I wanted to learn about.' I gave a wry smile as I set it down again. 'And I do read it quite fluently - which my wife somehow always neglects to mention when speaking of my struggle with the spoken word.'

He laughed quietly, then sat down, and I brought round the chair from behind my desk and sat down opposite, and watched as he took out his pipe. 

'Do you mind if I...?' he said, and gestured with it. 

'By all means.'

'The Queen can't abide it,' he said, perhaps a little wistfully, as he filled it and lit it. After a moment or two he spoke, quite bluntly. 'I am going to war in the East,' he said, and my heart sank, even though I had known it was certain. 'But I would hear your wishes.'

I looked at him in puzzlement. 'My wishes? I am the king's to command, of course.' 

'And if I commanded you to join me, on a long campaign? Speak frankly.'

I looked out of the window into the garden for a moment, and when I spoke, it was quietly. 'My allegiance to you is, I hope, beyond all question.' And he nodded. 'But it is true that I greatly desire not to go to war again.' 

'We none of us, I think, desire to go to war again. Excepting, perhaps, your brother-in-law,' he amended.

I smiled, but fell silent, and looked down at my silver ring, twisting and turning beneath my fingers. 

'Your pardon,' he said eventually. 'I have prevented you speaking your mind.' He leaned forward and gazed at me with those piercing grey eyes. 'This is not, I think, as straightforward a matter as wishing simply to remain in peace in Ithilien with your family.'

'There is something else,' I conceded. 

'Tell me what troubles you, Faramir.'

I leaned back in my chair, folded my arms, and gave a sigh. 'You are aware it is some time now since I have taken an active part in the operation of the Ithilien company?'

'It has not escaped my attention.'

We looked at each other, grey on grey. 'I thought it would not have,' I said, and gave a soft sigh. 

'You misunderstand me. It is not that which concerns me,' he said. 'Ithilien is your princedom. I trust you to govern it as you see fit, and you govern it admirably. If you are content to leave the company in the hands of men that you have trained and fought alongside, then I am content to trust your judgement. And, indeed, it has been well-founded. Ithilien is more peaceful now than it has been in all the days of your life.' He paused. 'You fought a hard war. I do not blame you for wishing to live in peace for a while. But,' and here he frowned, 'I detected in your most recent contribution to our counsels a note of alarm which troubled me. Mostly, I would add, because I have hitherto never known you to offer me an opinion which has not been first considered so carefully as to be unassailable once given.' He stopped and gazed at me. 'You have, I think, something to tell me.'

I took a deep and somewhat uneven breath - and then, leaning forward in my seat, and watching for the most part my ceaseless twisting of the ring, and only occasionally braving those eyes, I gave him a full account of what had happened on my last patrol. And then I told him of how I could no longer bring myself to carry a sword, since my hand shook when I reached for the hilt, and how I feared my for judgement and for the safety of any men that found themselves under my command at a moment of crisis. And as I spoke, he watched me steadily, and he was wreathed in smoke, but his eyes were keen and did not shift from my face. And when I had finished, I felt myself shaking again, and I forced myself to clamp one hand over the other. 

We sat for a moment in silence. Then he spoke and his voice was mild. 'We can, of course, resolve this matter very simply,' he said. 'Someone has to govern in the city when I leave for the east. I had thought of asking the Prince of Dol Amroth to remain. I can see no reason why it cannot be you instead.' 

It was as if a block of stone had been lifted from me. 

Then he looked at me sharply. 'When were you intending to tell me about this?' 

'I would have told you now, if you had come to tell me we were going to war, but had not broached the matter.'

He nodded. 

'Otherwise...' I went back to twisting the ring. 'I knew you were concerned about what passed in the Council. I would have told you within a matter of days.' 

He looked down and began to put away his pipe. 'You should have spoken to me sooner,' he said simply. 

I could not answer him, but this shame was worse than anything I had felt at my incapacity; worse even than anything my father had made me feel. 

Then he rose, and so did I; and he looked upon me gravely. 'However the Council of Gondor may have been conducted in the past, Lord Steward, your opinion is now only ever received in the highest esteem. But I would ask you, in return, to ensure that it remains worthy of that regard.' And his look became more one of compassion. 'It is not necessary for you to shield yourself from me, Faramir.' 

And I took both the admonishment and the advice, since each was given justly and with love, and bowed. 'My lord,' I said. 

He moved towards the door and then glanced out into the garden. 'Does the Lady of Emyn Arnen improve? She still, I thought, looked pale.'

'She is somewhat weak yet, but better; thank you.'

'And your son?'

I glowed with pleasure. 

He laughed. 'You need say nothing there, for your face says enough! I am glad he thrives, and that your wife improves.' Then he looked at me sharply again. 'What has the Lady Éowyn had to say about your own health?'

I was lost for words for a moment. 'I have not... she was ill... we have not spoken of it.'

He looked at me oddly, but made no comment. 'Well,' he said, and turned back to the door, changing the subject, 'I have sent messages to Dol Amroth and the Prince will join us in the city by the end of the week. We shall speak at council again then.'

We walked outside, and I watched as he rode off, and then returned to my study. My wife was waiting for me there, leaning upon my desk. 

'Is there then to be war?' she said. 

'There is.'

'And when must you leave?'

'I do not leave.'

A frown crossed her face. 'What do you mean?' 

'The King and the Prince Imrahil will command the armies of Gondor, and ride with your brother to the East. I shall remain in Minas Tirith as Steward.'

'Is this a reprimand?' She seemed shocked. 'Have you displeased the King somehow?'

'A reprimand? Indeed, no! Is that how you judge it? Surely a favour, rather?'

'Then I ask again - when must you leave?'

It took a moment for her full meaning to sink in, and then I looked on her in amazement. 'I had imagined the Lady of Emyn Arnen would accompany me to the city - ' 

'And what use would I be there?'

'I may be away months, Éowyn, more than a year, most likely,' I said, almost not believing that this exchange was taking place. 'I had thought to have my family nearby throughout, dear to me as you are.'

'Someone, surely, must look to the care of the people of Ithilien?' she replied. 

'My lady,' I said gently, 'you are not well enough to devote yourself to governing Ithilien. And, besides, surely your first duty now must be the care of our son?'

Her tone in response was very sharp. 'Since you are so solicitous of his health, perhaps you and he may travel together to Minas Tirith and leave me here in peace!'

I looked at her in dismay. 'Éowyn - ' I said, reaching out my hands, palms outstretched, to pacify her. 

She drew a hand across her face. 'Forgive me, sir,' she said. 'I am very tired, and merely the thought of the city exhausts me further.' Then a flash of anger passed across her face. 'How I despise myself for being this weak - and I loathe it! To be constantly so ill and so unsteady! I long to be well again!'

I stepped forward and took her arm, but she shook me off violently. 'Do not coddle me! I am not an invalid! I am simply tired, and wish for some peace! And between the demands of the child and your incessant attention I am being suffocated. I am being rubbed away!'

I drew back, uncertain of what to do or say. After a moment she sat down and seemed to compose herself. Then she spoke again, and her voice was calm, but she did not look at me. 'When must we depart?'

'Before the end of the week,' I said, after a slight hesitation. 

She rose and sighed. 'It shall be as my lord commands,' she said, and left the room. And I sat down in my turn, for it had been a taxing interview with the King, and I had had little in reserve for an exchange such as this, which had taken me completely by surprise. And I decided that it was best if I gave her time to collect herself, and some of the peace she had demanded, and I remained in my study reading for a few hours. When finally I did go to our chamber, she appeared already to be sleeping, and when I whispered her name I got no response. But when I lay down next to her and put my hand diffidently on her arm, she reached out and took it, and held it tight. 


	6. Chapter VI

VI

Although Emyn Arnen had mercifully cooled in recent weeks, the heat of summer still lay heavy on the city of Minas Tirith. And as we went up the levels it was as if the heat oppressed the air between us also. For my husband had sat beside me throughout our journey in grave silence, and I was too tired to determine whether he was angry or simply too afraid to speak. 

Once I had recovered from my initial sickness, and during the spring and early summer, I had been at ease with my condition, and even flourished; and, although I missed riding, I had walked much, and we had both been excited as we planned for the baby's arrival; my husband seemed sometimes to glow more than I did. In the April, my brother had come with his new wife Lothíriel, my husband's cousin from Dol Amroth, and these had been joyful weeks. They were very much in love, and both my husband and I were greatly amused to see how my brother softened around her and was completely at her command, when she had gone to such lengths to pursue him. She was a sweet girl, but sharp and capable, and gifted with great wit, and I loved to hear her speak cheerfully of her battles to tame Edoras and, when pressed, she proved to be a remarkable source of gossip about all at court, some of which I had not learned in all my years there. How I wished she and I had been there together, for I believe we would have reigned supreme! Still, it seemed she managed well enough on her own account. My brother had chosen a woman the match of anyone in Edoras, himself not least. 

It was after they departed, and the weather became hotter, that I felt myself begin to fade. I longed for the weight to be removed from me, so that I could move again freely; and the days passed slowly, as I went from chamber to garden and back again, and nothing about me changed - or perhaps time itself slowed down, and me with it. My husband throughout was gentle and attentive, and he spent more time with me than I would have thought his duties could allow, but he seemed quite confident that Ithilien was in good hands. And we would sit together and talk, or he would read and I would drowse, and all of his actions were dedicated to my ease and comfort. 

But still, when July came, I was so hot and so tired, and the birth took so long, that my only feeling was one of relief - and I found that I did not care much for the child, and this troubled me, for it seemed unnatural. I had thought that once I looked upon it I would be filled with love. But I was able to hide behind my husband's love, which did bring me pleasure, his happiness was so great. He would sit at length beside me on the bed, with his legs drawn up, and the child resting there, and marvel at its perfection; and he would say again and again how much it looked like me - which was untrue, for with its pale skin and dark hair and lashes it was a miniature version of him, save that its eyes were blue. I left him to name it, and he called it Elboron, in part in memory of his brother; and I took care to make sure he thought we had reached the decision together. I knew how much it meant to my husband that we were now a family, as he had longed for his whole life, for since Denethor had found sufficient object for his affection in his elder son, my husband had ever been unnecessary. While I too had lost mother and father very young, yet I had been secure in the love of my brother, and my cousin, and the king, at least as a child and before the court darkened. I wondered if this, in part, accounted for my coolness towards my own son, since I had not greatly desired him. 

But I hoped that soon my son and I would, perhaps, form a stronger bond, for I believed, from all my husband had said, that there was going to be war; and my husband, as steward and as one of the ablest captains in the realm, would soon be called upon again to show his valour. While I knew, from how I felt each time he rode out to travel in Ithilien, that I would miss him badly, and that this absence would be of even longer duration, still I was proud of him and his courage, and I took consolation in the honour that I knew he would bring to our house. 

Thus I was mystified to learn, after the King came to see him, that while there would indeed be war, my husband would not be riding out to it. And I was utterly bewildered when I perceived that he saw no disgrace in this and, indeed, seemed glad. The only explanation I could think of, although he denied it, was that he had in some way angered the King. But we did not speak about it, for in my dismay at learning that we must, as a result of his staying behind, go back to the city, I had lashed out at him, and he had withdrawn from me completely. Even as I lay in our chamber, waiting for him to come to me, and weeping a little both in remorse for my anger and misery at the thought of leaving Emyn Arnen, he had remained aloof in his study, with his books. And over the next few days he was still quiet, and I was so tired by the effort of the preparations for our move, and unhappy at the thought of our destination, and troubled at what the King's slight could mean that, in another flash of anger, I decided that if he was intent on being enigmatic, I had little energy or inclination to play at solving his riddles. 

So we reached the uppermost level and arrived at the Steward's house, and my husband, with silent courtesy, helped me down from the carriage, and then spoke at last. 

'Please forgive me that I do not come in with you, my lady. I must attend on the King directly.' And he gave me a slight, stiff bow, and left for the White Tower. 

I entered the house with little enthusiasm. It was not so close here as further down the city and the rooms had been aired in the few days since we had sent word of our return, but still the building weighed down upon my mood. And in the days that followed I found myself left to contemplate the house much, for the council was in session daily in preparation for war, and my husband would go out early and return late. And I sat in the garden, or moved from room to room, and thought of the scented valleys around Emyn Arnen, and the green fields of Rohan. 

And I fell also to thinking of Finduilas, who had been mistress here before me. Very soon after inheriting this house and all within, my husband had destroyed - burnt, indeed - many things that had been his father's; even books, which was hard to believe of him, but only those in which Denethor had written his name. Then he had brought out much that had been his mother's, and which had been put away on her death. And they were indeed lovely things, beautifully carved bookcases with her own books on once again, and intricately woven carpets and tapestries, and here and there glass and crystal ornaments. And so, since her memory was all around me, my mind was much upon her. I had heard a great deal about her for, while my husband recollected nothing more than a few dim images or of seeking something he had lost, the Prince of Dol Amroth fell easily to speaking about her if asked. And she had been gentle, and softly spoken, and loved books and music and her sons. After thirty years he still grieved much for the loss of his beloved sister. And I came to think of her as a white dove that had been blown off course by a pitiless wind, and had found itself trapped high on a cold and cruel rock where, trembling and alone, it had died. And I swore to myself that this would not be my fate also. 

The day after our arrival, the Queen had visited me, and we had gone out and sat by the fountain beneath the White Tree, where it felt a little cooler with the water running by. We spoke a little of our children, for their daughter was now just a year old, and quite beautiful. 

'I wonder,' I said, as I listened to her speak, 'if I might like to be the mother of a daughter better.' And as I said it, this seemed to me a strange thought, since I knew as much about mothers and daughters as I did about mothers and sons, and I had always preferred the company of men.

The Queen looked at me closely. 'And yet,' she murmured, 'you have such a fine son.' She smiled, and took my hand. 'Wait until he wants to learn to ride!' she said, and I too smiled at the thought. 

Then we fell to talking about the imminent arrival of the Prince of Dol Amroth, the last of the lords of the council to come in preparation for riding east; and how the occasion would be marked most splendidly for, when he came, this would be the largest gathering of the lords and ladies of Gondor for some time - since our wedding, indeed. Privately, I was not looking forward to the event for the court bored me, but my appearance was expected and duty had to be done. And when she got up to leave, the Queen pressed my hand, and said, 'Do not sit alone all day, Éowyn. I would welcome your company.'

The weather was still warm when the court assembled, and I felt well enough, but prepared myself gloomily. I had chosen a dress entirely in white, even the embroidery and the beading and, as my only concession to colour, I had put on the swan pendant which Faramir had given me the morning of our wedding, which I loved, and I knew it would please him to see me wear it. And I saw now, for the first time, that the gem was the exact colour as my eyes, and those of our son. When he came in, I saw that my husband had dressed completely in black, but I also marked that even on an occasion such as this he did not bear the blade that I had given him. We both spoke at the same time. 

'You are so lovely - ' he murmured. 

'We are opposites!' I exclaimed, and regretted it straightaway, because his face fell and he lowered his head. I came to stand close before him. 'Or perhaps it is that we match,' I said, more gently, and took his hand. 

He looked up and his face was rather sad. 'At least we do not clash,' he murmured, pressing my hand, and then reached forward hesitantly to kiss me on the cheek. And then we gave each other small smiles and, hand in hand, went down into the court of the fountain. 

A great many people desired to speak to us, for we were not, by the will of us both, much seen at court. At length, I was able to take a moment for myself and, looking across the courtyard, I saw that my husband had been caught by three or four ladies of the realm who plainly admired him greatly and, this being my husband, he was of course utterly oblivious to their regard. I did not doubt that each of them had schemed to capture him, when he had been the Lord Faramir, second son of the Steward, and then as the Steward's heir, and then when he had at last become Steward himself. And I was filled suddenly with pride that this fine, gentle, brave man had chosen me above all the polished and sophisticated ladies of Gondor. 

As I looked upon him, with great love in my heart, I became aware of someone standing by me, and turned to behold the King who, it seemed, was also seeking a moment's peace. 

'How glad the Queen and I are to see you well again, my lady,' he said quietly. 'And even gladder to have you here in Minas Tirith.'

'It always brings me great joy to see you both,' I said warmly, and he smiled, then looked at my husband, who was now trying to remove himself from his circle of admirers. 

'I believe he is truly unaware how many hearts he leaves in ruin in his wake,' the King said dryly. 

I laughed; and then I summoned up all my courage and said what was most on my mind. 'And yet I fear he has somewhat lost your favour, lord,' I said. 

He turned to look at me in complete surprise. 'What would cause you to think that, my lady?' he said. 

'Why else would you instruct him to remain in the city rather than travel with you to the east as should be his place? Surely this is a great dishonour?'

He did not answer straightaway, and his face became very grave. 'My lady,' he said in time, 'Let me set your mind at rest. For of all the lords of this land, there are none I hold in such high esteem as the Steward of Gondor. My respect for him is of the highest order and my trust in him absolute.'

'Why, then, does he not go with you?'

'He does not desire it, lady,' he said softly. 'He wishes to remain with you, and your son.'

'I would not demand this sacrifice of him!' I exclaimed. 

'My lady,' he said, and his voice was gentle, but the note of warning was clear, 'this is a matter for you and your husband.'

I sighed and lowered my head. He pressed my hand very gently, and I looked upon his face. 'The Queen and I are glad to have you here, my lady - to have you both here. There are few in the realm we hold so dear as the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen.' And he bowed, and so left me. 

I stepped back into the court, and quickly found myself surrounded by several ladies, and tried my utmost to pay attention to their chatter, but my mind was elsewhere, and so it was a few minutes before I grasped that their topic of conversation was my husband and I; and it was even longer before I realized that these fine ladies, in the roundabout fashion that I despised most about the court, were asking me, to my face, why it was that, with so many ladies as noble and graceful as they to choose from, my husband had instead picked me. And when one remarked that for my husband's sake I should devote myself more to court even though I might well be more at home in the country, I saw red, and promptly pulled from her the goblet she was holding and threw its contents into her face. And I was delighted to see, before I stalked back to the Steward's house, that she had been drinking red wine, and that her pretty yellow gown was quite ruined. 

But by the time I reached my chamber I was quite mortified, and my heart plummeted when I thought of what my husband would have to say. And I was sitting quite meekly at the end of the bed waiting for him, when the door clicked, and at last he came in. When he spoke his voice was very quiet. 

'Although I am aware that she is perhaps the most infuriating woman in the whole kingdom of Gondor, I fear greatly to ask what it is in particular that the Lady Fíriel did to merit such a display of wrath on the part of the Lady of Emyn Arnen,' he said, and sat down slowly beside me at the end of the bed. 

'She said that I was provincial,' I replied furiously and, as I said it, it sounded ridiculous.

He looked down, and I could see that although he was feigning serious consideration of what I had said, it was in fact to hide his smile. 'Well... we do live outside the city walls,' he mused. 'And, even worse, beyond the river. Perhaps we are indeed provincial.'

I looked at him gravely. '_You may be, sir,' I said, to the lord of one of the most noble lines of Gondor, 'but __I am the sister of a king.' Then I groaned and put a hand to my face. 'Did the King say aught?'_

'He laughed.'

'And the Queen?'

'Thought it was a waste of good wine!' And my husband laughed also. 'No-one judges you, Éowyn! You may conduct yourself as you please. But you may find as a consequence that not all at court hold you in such high esteem as do your King and Queen or, indeed, your husband.' And he stroked the hand I held at my face. 

I pursed my lips. 'I believe that you are mocking me.'

'My lady,' he said with absolute seriousness, drawing my hand away and holding it to his chest, and gazing at me steadily with his fine grey eyes. 'I would never mock you.' 

I smiled at him tenderly. 

'Since I do not want you to throw wine into my face,' he added. And I smacked him lightly on the chest, and he folded me in an embrace and we fell back laughing onto the bed, and for a little while I could believe we were at home in Emyn Arnen.  

***

A/N: OK, this thank you should have come ages ago, but massive thanks to Isabeau, who has been full of brilliant ideas throughout the writing of this, and whose characterization of Lothíriel I have shamelessly swiped! 

Also, thanks to Episcopal Witch, who suggested I give you Éowyn's POV of the eight months which I missed out between chapters IV and V, thereby supplying me with content for this chapter! All other requests will be gladly heard, since I need ideas!! 

I was pretty knackered writing this chapter, and wrote most of it on a train, so I hope it reads OK. 


	7. Chapter VII

VII

It was as good as ever it was to see my uncle again. Shortly after his arrival - the morning after my wife ensured she would never be forgotten at the court of Minas Tirith - my uncle and I walked out down the keel, and we laughed at Éowyn's peerless style of diplomacy. When we reached the far end of the keel, we stood for a while companionably looking at the city and out across the Pelennor. The day was bright, but a sharp wind was coming from the north, and I was glad for my wife's sake that autumn seemed to be coming at last. 

'How are you, Faramir?' my uncle said quietly, in time. 

I looked at him sideways. 'Do you ask about something particular, or is this a general enquiry? If the latter, then I am well and happy, and blessed with a wife and son who fill my heart with joy. I could easily be judged the luckiest man alive.'

'And if my question was directed towards the particular?' He leaned his hands on the wall before him. 'Your letter near frightened the life from me.'

'I should think you were not half so scared as I!' I joked. 

'How have you been?' he said again, looking at me closely. 

I sighed, for I did not like to dwell upon this matter, but my uncle deserved answers. 'I could say that it barely affects me. The Ithilien company copes so well without my direct involvement it is almost insulting!' Then I gave him a rueful smile. 'I never wanted to be a soldier. You know that. Yet now it comes to it, I am surprised at how much I miss it.'

'It took up most of your life.'

'And how I resented it!' I answered, and then became more thoughtful. 'I imagine we always prefer to have a choice in these matters.'

'And is Éowyn content now with the changes this has meant for you both? I knew - even before her impressive demonstration yesterday - that she does not much care for Minas Tirith.'

I did not reply. His eyes widened. 

'Have you still not told her? Faramir, it is almost a year! Surely she deserves some explanation? This does not affect just you!'

I sighed. 'She was ill...'

'And now she is not! You must tell her!'

I leaned on the wall beside him and looked out eastwards across the fields whose defence had cost me so dear. 'I shall,' I decided. 'Very soon.'

But as the days went by, and September turned into October, the opportunity never seemed to arise. For we were going to war, and our preparations took up most of my time and energies, since not all was going smoothly. But Éowyn seemed to be coming to terms with our new way of life, more interested in our son, and able to ride again, and I did not much want to unsettle her. And I was so busy that it was a shock to see that October was drawing to a close, and that the armies and their captains would be leaving within the week. 

The Council meetings became longer as time ran short, and more intense, and it was rare that any of us got a full night's sleep. Two days before the date of departure, the whole Council was once again sealed in together. The King, my uncle and I had not left the night before until three or four hours after midnight and, by the afternoon, my uncle was uncharacteristically terse in his speech, the King seemed not to have stopped smoking for hours, and my own incessant twisting of my silver ring was irritating even me. And as I sat there, it seemed to me suddenly that I perceived our deliberations and calculations as they truly were, as flesh and blood and bone, and I felt false; that a man such as I was now could not in good conscience sit and blithely send to their deaths other, braver men. I heard a faint ringing in my ears which grew rapidly louder and then, through the clamour of the retreat down the Causeway Road, my own voice came, by some miracle quite calm. 

'My lords, I feel the need for some air. Please excuse me.'

As I rose, I saw the King and my uncle exchange a look, but I turned quickly and left the chamber. I made for a quiet passageway which I had often used as a haven after taking a beating in council from my father, and stood there with my fingers pressed to my temples, until the pounding in my ears subsided. But I felt the first grinding of what I knew would soon become a severe headache. 

I heard slow footsteps approaching, and looked up to see my uncle, who knew this hideaway of mine from old. His eyes widened slightly as he looked on my face.

'You are as white as a ghost!' he exclaimed. 

'Aye, and feel about as lively,' I said weakly. 

'Are you going to faint?' he said, resting his hand on my arm. 

'I do not believe so,' I managed.

'Has this happened in council before?'

'Never.' 

'You must go home and rest,' he said, and tried to make me move.

'I cannot simply abandon the session - !'

'Indeed you can!'

I put a hand back to my face. 'Besides,' I added at length, unwilling to make the admission, 'Éowyn will be at home.'

He made an exasperated noise, released my arm, and looked at me in frank disbelief. 'Have you _still not told her? Faramir, this is sheer madness - '_

'If you would oblige me, uncle, I would prefer if we had this particular conversation when I am better able to argue with you.'

Then I heard more footsteps. The King had joined us. He looked at me with deep concern, his eyes moving across my face. 'Go home,' he said softly. 'Rest until the morning.' 

'I am not ill!' I protested desperately, pressing my hand down hard on the top of my head which, as my voice rose, seemed to crack open a little wider. 

'That is precisely what you are,' he said. 'I will command you if I have to, Faramir.'

So I obeyed but, before I left, I turned back to face them, leaning for a moment on the wall. 'How,' I asked quietly, 'can I sit in Minas Tirith, and give out orders to men - orders that may kill them - that I am not prepared to follow myself?' And my uncle dropped his eyes from my face, but the King gazed back steadily and with compassion; and then I turned and went. 

I stole into the house but, mercifully, it turned out that Éowyn was not there. I considered going to our chamber, but I did not know when she would return, and I did not want to face questions about why I was in bed in the middle of the afternoon. So I went into my study, where she least likely to come and where there was a comfortable couch which I often lay upon to read, and, with great relief, I stretched out on it as much as I could, pressed my knuckles against my eyes to help with my throbbing head and waited to fall asleep. It took a while, for I lay worrying that this had happened not out on patrol, or even visiting the men, but here in the peace and safety of the citadel; but, at last, I drifted off into a sleep that was deep and blessedly dreamless. 

When I woke it was late in the evening. Most of the headache had cleared, and there remained just a slight heaviness behind my eyes. I sat on the edge of the couch, rubbed my eyes and the back of my neck, and ran a hand through my hair, then went out and saw a light on in the room across the hallway. I pushed open the door, and there was my wife, stretched out comfortably, reading. 

She looked up at me in surprise. 'You are early home,' she said. ' Have you been back long?'

'A little while,' I said. 

'You must hear of the horror that was my afternoon,' she said, putting her book down, 'and all on your account.' Although her face looked stern, I recognized the gleam in her eyes. 

'Tell me,' I said, and smiled at her, for I loved her dearly in this mood, and I was certain it would make a better story than any I could recount of my own afternoon.  

'I spent the time attempting to win back the good favour of the Lady Fíriel. We talked - or, I should say - _she talked about all manner of important things. Which fabric merchants in the city might cheat me. Who married who but who they should have married instead. And the doings of her little boy, who is, I must say, the most disgracefully indulged beast I have ever encountered. You can imagine the extent of my interest in all these matters.' She glared at me. 'And all so that you might look her husband in the eye again.' _

'I am honoured by my lady's great sacrifice.'  

Then she looked at me more closely. 'Have you been asleep?'

'For a little while, in my study.' She moved her legs beneath her and I sat down next to her and leaned my head on her shoulder. She began stroking my hair, and it helped a great deal with what remained of my headache. I closed my eyes. 

'You work too hard,' she murmured. 'And you worry too much.'

I opened my eyes and twisted my head to look at her questioningly. 

'I recognize this line,' she said, and traced a finger across my brow. And I bit my lip, and drew a deep breath, and decided that this was the moment to explain all to her. 

But before I could speak, she started again. 'But there is one good outcome from today,' she said playfully, 'for as a result I believe I may have found a new sport. Not so dear to me as riding, of course, but still I think I may find a great deal of entertainment in it. I have decided to award marks to these good ladies, depending on the foolishness of their opinions, the dullness of their subject matter, or the hideousness of their children. And this way, by the end of our stay here, I shall have determined beyond doubt who is the most ridiculous woman in Minas Tirith.' Then she stroked the side of my face, and her eyes now were completely serious. 'And this, my love, in case it is not plain enough - and I believe that on occasion we do not speak to each other plainly enough - is my way of telling you that while I shall not be truly happy until we return home, still, for the sake of both of us and the child, I shall try not to be miserable while we are here.'

And since this moment of peace between us was such a great comfort to me and because I still did not feel entirely well, I simply heaved a deep sigh of relief, rested my head back against her, and did not speak. And, later that night, when I woke shouting from a nightmare in which I was being pressed back harder and harder against the city walls and was trying to scream but could not make a sound, she took my head into her arms again, and so comforted me as I wept, and then we went back to sleep with her curled into me and me about her, as we had done at the beginning. 

The next morning, despite the dream, I woke feeling rested and well. When I went to meet the Council, very early, the King drew me aside for a moment, and I felt a stab of guilt, since he appeared not to have slept at all. 

'You look much better, I am glad to see,' he said. 

'Thank you, my lord, I am.'

'Forgive my bluntness, but you know how short time is now. Will it happen again?' 

It could not be a matter of small concern for him that he was leaving his kingdom in the stewardship of a man prone to unexpected collapses. 

'I cannot say it will not,' I replied, 'but I am coming to understand what may cause it.'

'A typically succinct analysis,' he said with a dry smile. 'I have every confidence in you, Lord Steward.' He patted my arm, a little absently, and then we made our way towards the White Tower. Ahead of us, the rest were beginning to go in, but then I heard a voice behind me, calling my name. 

'My Lord Faramir!' I turned to see that my wife was running towards me, and she seemed distraught. Her hair was wild and there were tears coming down her face. I hastened to meet her, and put my hands on her arms. 

'Éowyn, what is the matter? Are you ill? Has something happened to Elboron?'

'No, no! Nothing of that sort! But I _must speak to you at once!'_

I glanced behind me, and saw all the lords of the council looking on curiously. 'I tried to calm her. 'Please, Éowyn, control yourself. Tell me calmly what the matter is.'

'_Control myself!' Her voice was becoming louder. 'I am not a child!'_

'You are behaving like one,' I hissed. 

She looked at me in fury, then shook me off and shoved me away from her, and turned and ran back to the house. 

The King came to stand next to me. 'Be back here within ten minutes,' he said, and his tone was unreadable. 

I was both furious and mortified as I strode off in pursuit of my wife. Between us, in recent days, the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen had caused more disruption to the conduct of our war than any enemy had yet had the chance. 

She was sitting on the bed waiting when I entered. 

'Lady,' I said, and I did not disguise my anger, 'You have done me a great injustice, and before all the lords of the realm - '

'The lords of the realm! What of them? Am I not thy _wife?'_

'I am _not thy adjunct, Éowyn! I am steward of this realm; aye, as much as I am thy husband!' _

'Yea, and my lord. And I should defer to thy will, no doubt?'

'In this I would require it as your duty to me, yes.' 

She rose and began pacing the room. 'And again it comes to this,' she said bitterly. 'I am to be no more than a pawn in the hands of men, to be shunted around - and aside - at the will of those who deem themselves better placed to judge my interests. This, I should think, is how thy mother felt, trapped in a stone city with naught but screaming babes and chattering girls to distract her, and a husband too besotted with duty to speak to her!'

When I could speak again, my voice was thick with rage. 'Whatever thy complaint, my lady, domesticity has not diminished thy aim. It is still deadly.' 

She approached me, to pacify me, and I drew back deliberately. 'We shall speak no more now,' I said. 'The Council is in session, and I have duties to perform, regardless of the will of the Lady of Emyn Arnen.' And so I left. 

It was long after midnight when I returned, and I went with a sinking heart into our chamber. And there she was still, sitting on a chair by the side of the bed, waiting for me. I wasted no time. 

'While I am prepared to indulge your temper when directed towards foolish women who deserve no better, your display today - before the King and the Council - I cannot accept.'

She did not reply, but picked up a hairbrush, and began toying with it, pressing its bristles into the palm of her hand. 

'Am I at least judged worthy of an explanation?' 

She remained silent, but started brushing her long golden hair; swift, savage movements. I sighed and tried a different approach. 'If you could just tell me what it was that upset you so - '

'I believe I am having another child,' she said; and, with a clatter, threw the brush down. 

I looked at her in disbelief. 'And _this is your ill news?' I began to pace the room. 'Do you lack any sense of proportion?'_

She gave me a startled look. 'I beg your pardon?'

'This is why you disturbed a council of war? Éowyn, you were in a state so desperate, I thought our son was dead!'

She looked away from me, shaking her head, apparently as incredulous of my words as I was of hers. 

'Surely this news is good?' I ventured. 

'I am barely recovered from last time!'

'Then I shall do all in my power to make you comfortable. What is it you want, Éowyn?'

'I want to return to Emyn Arnen. I cannot stay in this city - '

'This was not what you said to me yesterday - '

'Yesterday I was not faced with the prospect of this burden!'

'_Burden...?' I said, but for the moment let it pass. 'My lady, leaving aside that I would have hoped you would prefer to remain with me - since that is clearly untrue - I can at least point out that with the armies going east, Ithilien's company is greatly reduced. I cannot defend you properly in Emyn Arnen.'_

'I thank you for your concern, sir, but I can defend myself without your aid. I am well able to judge what is best for my own protection. And I deem Ithilien safe enough for me.'

'Forgive my mistrust of your judgement, madam, but one battle, however critical, does not make you a soldier. When you have spent twenty years in the army, then I shall take account of your thoughts on the defence of Ithilien.'  

'You are hardly a soldier, sir!' she shot back, and stood up to face me. 

It was like a slap across the face. _'What?'_

'A man who chooses home above battle? Who will not touch a sword? That is not what I would call soldierly.'

'What then would you call it? And, pray, do not hold back, by any means!'

'Then, by your command, I shall not. I call it undutiful. Dishonourable. And, yea, I shall use the word - I call it cowardly.'

I felt my face harden to stone. 'This, then, is your opinion of a man who does not ride to war?'

'Yes, sir, it is.' 

'I am glad, madam, that you have taken the trouble to speak to me so plainly,' and my voice was so cold I barely recognized it as my own. 'For now it permits me to speak my mind also. I at least am happy to learn that we are to be blessed with another child. But I have no compunction in sharing with you my very low opinion of a woman who abhors her children.' 

And with that, we stood and looked upon each other, and she was shaking, and my hands were clenched tight beside me. And after a few moments standing that way, I turned and left the room, for I no longer had any desire to be near her. I went to a chamber at the far end of the house and I slept very badly. 

The following morning, I went out along the keel to watch the departure of the captains and the armies. After a little while, I saw that my wife had come out also, but we did not greet each other, and we stood apart for the whole time it took for the companies to pass beyond the Rammas. And then, without a word exchanged between us, she turned and went back to the Steward's house, and I made my way to the White Tower. 

***

A/N: I've got a busy weekend up ahead, so I probably won't update for a bit (although I'm so addicted to writing this story that you _may get something sooner). In the meantime, I leave you with this cheerful bit of TSE that was swimming around my head as I wrote this chapter: _

_'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak._

_What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?_

_I never know what you are thinking. Think.'_

_I think that we are in rats' alley_

_Where the dead men lost their bones._

Oh, and this time I have a soundtrack suggestion! - which is Susanne Vega's most recent album _Songs in Red and Gray, which is full of less than jolly songs about the break-up of her marriage._

Have a great weekend!

Altariel


	8. Chapter VIII

A/N: Enter the referee. Hope this new voice works OK. Bumper edition this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and emailing and offering suggestions - it's hugely appreciated! 

VIII

Leaving behind at Edoras the Kings of both Rohan and Gondor, I had ridden several days ahead of the returning and victorious army, for I was eager to see Dol Amroth and my family after a year away. Having tarried a while in Edoras with my daughter, I now wished to see my younger sons in Dol Amroth and, on the way, visit my nephew, as dear to me as a son, and his wife in Minas Tirith. And I had there also a new great-niece whose acquaintance I was keen to make for the first time. Thus there was a song in my heart as I rode past the Rammas and onto the Pelennor. News of my imminent arrival had clearly come ahead of me, for my nephew was waiting to greet me on the steps of the White Tower; and we embraced, and he praised the Valar for my safe return. And we went up into the Tower, and towards his office there. 

As boys, my two nephews spent many of their summers with my family on the coast, and my wife and I were glad to have them, for not only did we love them dearly, but they were for us a memory of Finduilas, and we also judged that any time away from the city was only to their good. Boromir, always easy with himself, would quickly settle and reappoint himself in command, to which self-elevation my eldest son Elphir, a year or so his junior, would simply raise an eyebrow at me and then amiably indulge his cousin for the entire holiday. But often it would take much time, sometimes a week or two, before Faramir could be coaxed from his near silence. In no small part this was because his older brother would answer on his behalf any question directed towards him and he, like my own son, had plainly decided that the easiest course of action was to allow him. But the larger part of this reticence was, I believed, that he had learned very early in life that, if he did speak, he did not always much care for the responses he got. My wife or I would need to spend much time alone in his company before he was once again comfortable with us; yet once he did open up, it came in a great rush, as if all his opinions and thoughts, bottled up in the city, could at the coast flow free. 

His face, upon arrival, and before he was persuaded that it was now safe to relax, was what I am sure he intended to be a study in complete neutrality; but he has always been easily deciphered by the careful reader; which, alas, also included his father. Sometimes his expressions were amusing or touching - the loving look he would bestow upon my wife when he thought nobody was watching; the dry half-smile which would meet one of his brother's more extravagant claims. But often they were simply saddening - the flicker of alarm at the unexpected mention of his father; the look of concentration as he summoned up the nerve to say something - and then the slight shrug when he decided not to risk it; the air of tension that was always faintly detectable, even when he was otherwise at his ease. 

The virtual disappearance in recent years of that tension I attributed entirely to Éowyn, and it was one of the many things for which I felt profound gratitude towards this remarkable young woman. Her compassion towards his bleaker moods and her patient sacrifice of her own ambitions to his duty and desperate desire for a stable family life were some of the other acts for which I believed her as much worthy of song as her deeds in battle; and, in his turn, Faramir was as gentle and considerate as I had always known he would be with the woman he loved. 

And he did love her - anyone could see that, not just those of us who were experts in him - for his face was transformed when he caught sight of her; and, when he touched her, it was sometimes as if he were handling something of great value. But at the back of my mind I worried - for I always worried about my nephew - that while he was indeed devoted to her, he frequently misread her. And this shortfall in his usually limitless insight into the hearts of others I put down to his lack of sisters, and his lack of a mother; and, also, that whatever perception he had gained as a boy of how it was between my wife and me, he did not otherwise have a great deal of experience to draw upon when attempting to make a success of his own marriage. My heart had been full of foreboding at his continued delay in explaining to Éowyn that he was ill; but the boy was as obstinate as his father, and I knew, from hard experience there, that pressing him would most likely have an effect opposite to that desired. And while I had had sympathy with his unspoken fear that Éowyn would not understand, again I believed he had misread her. She valued plain speaking and did not care to be deceived; but my nephew had learnt at much too young an age the safety there was in silence, and the Steward's house, when the Lord Denethor had been its master, had been a place were certain matters, such as missing mothers, or differing opinions, or one's feelings, were firmly closed. 

My nephew's office in the White Tower had its habitual air of appearing as if a small hurricane had lately passed through it, a trait which had always somehow heartened me, since his father's preference for orderliness I had always felt bordered on the obsessive. But, despite their vastly different styles, I would not have been able to choose between them when it came to attention to detail and grasp of subject matter; in this he was very much his father's son, save he did not use his knowledge as a stick to beat others, nor as a means to trap them. And the white walls caught the sunlight, and fell on his papers and books and pictures, and when he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, I was struck at how at ease he had become in his role as steward. 

And so we fell to talking, and I asked him for news of Gondor, where all had, as I expected, been well and indeed prospered under his rule. He pressed me then for news of the war and wished to hear in detail about its conduct, the success of our strategies, and my thoughts on the security of our eastern allies. And he spoke a little in return of the incursions from the south which had been attempted, and the great successes of the Poros company in defending that border. And while it was a great relief to him that our main strength was now returning home, he believed it was clear now in the south that even while stretched elsewhere, Gondor was neither weak nor undefended.  

Then I asked him about his family, and he spoke at length and with great love of Elboron, who was now walking and almost talking; and, when I asked about his new daughter, now four months old, he was near speechless with pleasure. They had named her Morwen, for Éowyn's mother's mother; and it seemed that Faramir's new daughter was another dark-haired child and so well named - although I privately wondered what Éowyn made of this. It seemed, when I asked, that this birth had been less trying for Éowyn and, as the summer had been mild, she had been less troubled by the heat. And then I asked, as I knew he had been expecting, about his own health during my absence, and he fell silent again, but this was plainly not from pleasure. After a moment he spoke.

'It truly troubles me very little; but, since you will not be content with that as an answer, I shall attempt a fuller one.' But as I watched I saw tension creep in around his eyes and mouth where before he had been at ease.  

'Have you experienced anything such as I saw before I left?' I prompted. 

He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture which most commonly meant he was considering how best to phrase something. 'Not so much in recent months,' he admitted. 

'But you have done so?'

'If I am over-tired or over-anxious - '

'The latter being a common enough occurrence!' I said, and saw, with a little surprise, that this did not amuse him. 

'Indeed,' he said, a little sternly, I thought, then he continued, 'Or, on occasion, if I hear loud and sudden noises. In which case - yes; I might easily find myself in a condition much the same as you saw before you left.' And then he smiled and seemed more himself. 'The lesson being not to become exhausted and to keep all about me quiet - as I prefer! And these simple rules followed, I am much the same as ever I was.'

'And have you yet picked up a sword?' I said softly. 

He frowned at me, and his face again became somewhat stern. 'That,' he said, quietly but firmly, 'will not happen again.' Then his mood changed back. 'So, are you now content?' he smiled. 

And I was, since he seemed very well, as did his family, and he had clearly made a great success of his stewardship. And although I now wanted to go to my own home in the city, after my long ride, I promised to dine with him at his home that evening, and we bid farewell for the moment, and I left him to his business. It was only when I was halfway to my own house that it came to me that he had barely spoken about his wife, and then only in answer to my questions. And then I also thought that, for the first time in his life, he had, perhaps, not been as easy for me to read as he had hitherto always been.

In the early evening, at the time we had set, I was strolling across the court of the fountain towards the Steward's house, and I heard my name called. Coming towards me from the direction of the citadel was my nephew who, it seemed, has just finished at his office for the day. We walked together to his home, and he asked if I had rested well, which I had, and I asked if his afternoon had gone well, to which he shrugged. 

'Paperwork is paperwork. At least I am a quick reader.'

'And yet you would willingly spend hours with your head stuck in a book!'

'I would prefer something less dry! Even with my imagination I am hard pressed to make reports of building maintenance on the fourth level seem romantic.'

I laughed at the thought of my nephew the bureaucrat sitting behind his desk, and we entered the house. Éowyn came to greet me in the hallway, and she was as lovely as ever, and I was very thankful to see how well she looked. It was plain this new baby had taken much less of a toll on her, and this was a great relief, since I knew how much of a strain her first child had been, both physically and on her state of mind. My first stop was, of course, the nursery, to take a look at their children, now fast asleep; and to admire how much their son had grown, and to offer appropriately flattering remarks about their daughter, which was not difficult. 

'Do you see enough of them, Faramir?' I said quietly, for I feared that for all his devotion, his workload might too easily force him to leave all the burden for their care completely on Éowyn, and I knew she would not much favour this arrangement. 

'I come back for an hour or so each day before they go to bed,' he said, and I was pleased to hear it. 

'Indeed,' his wife added, 'the Lord of Emyn Arnen has always been most fond of his home and his children.' 

'It is good, I think, for them to have one such parent,' he replied.

I had been gazing at Morwen, who looked as much like her father as Elboron did his mother, and had not seen their faces throughout this exchange. There was nothing in the tone, since both had spoken perfectly normally, and Faramir and Éowyn had always sparred, a large part of the delight of watching them together as a couple - but it seemed to me, given what I knew of their individual fears and troubles, that these were strange subjects about which to jest. And when I looked at them, there was none of the silent language of affection, of touch and caress, that had always accompanied their word games. Éowyn's face was perfectly still and pale, like a cold marble statue. And Faramir had, it seemed, at last achieved that expression of complete neutrality for which he had striven as a boy. And I admit that, seeing them thus, my heart quailed. 

The greatest grief in my life was the year I spent watching helplessly my wise, beloved wife, as the sickness gripped her, and as she fought it with a ferocity the like of which I have barely ever seen even from men on the battlefield. But, at the end, when her suffering was too much even for her indomitable spirit, she simply slid away from me, so quietly I barely she knew she had gone. I would not wish such agony upon even an enemy. Close to this in painfulness were the sorrow and the sense that somehow I had failed to protect her which overwhelmed me on receiving the letter from the Lord Denethor informing me, in terse and almost cold language, of the death of my dear sister. And then, again, another letter, in the Steward's precise and powerful hand, telling me of the loss of that magnificent son that he and Finduilas had inexplicably contrived to produce. My poor sister and her boys. I would have protected them from anything - that pitiless man included - with my life if needs be. I had never thought I would need to protect them from themselves. 

With so much sorrow caused by death, it never ceases to bewilder me why the living should choose to cause themselves even more pain. But, even fresh from a year on the eastern front, there is little I have seen to compare with the wounds inflicted upon each other in that time by the Lord and Lady and Emyn Arnen, as assiduous in the conduct of their own, private war as we had been in ours. 

My alarm grew steadily throughout dinner. As we ate and talked, I gained the impression that I was attending two separate suppers, not one. It was not as if they competed for my attention; no, they were both far too courteous to draw me onto their battlefield in so gross a way. But I would find that while I was speaking to one, the other was completely absent from the discussion. Then, when an opportunity arose, the other would address me again, picking up from something we had said previously. They did not exchange a word and even barely a look. I began to reach more for the wine than was my custom and, after an hour or so, it was thus tempting to grab them both and knock their heads together. But I restrained myself. 

Only at the end of the evening did they finally address each other, and I wished most fervently that they had not, or that I had not seen it. Faramir and I had fallen again to talking about the eastern campaign, and he was hazarding guesses as to what activity we would now see south of Dale where, he judged, our borders were too open between Rhûn and the northern marches of Ithilien, and he feared an attack there shortly. The King had been saying much the same thing before I left Edoras, and predicting another war there very soon. I believed the King on occasion too much given to doom-laden pronouncements and had, in my more optimistic fashion, insisted it would be several years before that need seriously concern us. It was therefore most galling to hear that Faramir's independent conclusions matched the King's, since he was usually right, a trait which could easily have been maddening, but which he contrived always to make endearing. 

'You have lost none of your strategic acumen in your retirement,' I said fondly. 'How I wish you might be there with us,' I added gently, and he smiled at me, then laughed. 

'Nay!' he said, 'I am well content to remain here, comfortable behind my desk!'

And then up spoke his wife. 'Which seems to my mind strange for one who was not present to earn glory at the greatest battle of our age.'

There was somewhat of a pause; then, 'Lady!' I said, in genuine distress, for this remark seemed to me simply cruel, given the cause of my nephew's ill health, and what I knew he himself privately felt about not having fought the battle on the Pelennor - whatever others thought of his extraordinary sacrifices in defence of the city. 

But Faramir raised his hand, silencing me, and looking at his face, I got the dreadful impression that he heard such comments far too frequently. And I could not believe this of Éowyn who, for all her talk of valour and courage, I had thought knew about men and war, and its cost upon them, and did not lack compassion. And that was when I was struck with the thought that it was possible that she still did not know. 

They looked coldly upon each other for some time, before he broke the silence. 'As my lady may recall, for it was not long afterwards that first she set eyes on me, I had been wounded leading a retreat in which I lost a third of my men and most of my friends.' He paused. 'I too saw blood flow freely on the fields of the Pelennor, Éowyn. But the memory of the deaths of those I loved is not to me glorious.' 

And I saw the hurt in her eyes, and I saw also that he was glad to see it. 

And I was glad to leave them, for what I had seen had distressed me greatly. As I stood on the step, I promised Éowyn as I kissed her that I would see her at home the next morning; and I promised Faramir, as we clasped hands, that I would come to his office at the end of the day; and I was filled with terrible sadness at the great loneliness that lay behind both their pleas for my company. When the door closed behind me, it was hard to bear the thought of those two fine and fragile people, that I loved so dearly, and who had wandered so long alone and adrift, finding in each other not the comfort which they both so plainly desired, but only more sorrow. I went to bed with a heavy heart. 

I do not make it my habit to interfere in the marriages of my friends and family. Perhaps it was my long felt regret that I had not spoken up when confronted with the disaster that had been the marriage of Denethor and Finduilas, but when I awoke the next morning, I had clearly decided in my sleep that I had to do all in my power to help these two young people, who were unable to set aside the sorrows of the past, to live the joyful life which they richly deserved. For they should be happy together - they had two fine children, were young and in excellent physical health, and had all the comforts that came from their rank. And yet it seemed that Faramir was tormenting himself at his inability to perform a role he had never wanted in the first place, and Éowyn was in turn placing the burden of her own frustrations on him. I believed in my heart that they still loved each other, but I did not know how much longer that could last nor, indeed, whether too much damage had already been done. 

Late in the morning, I went to see Éowyn, who was at home and had plainly been waiting for me. And we embraced, and she clutched at me a little longer than I remembered her ever doing, for she was not an overly demonstrative woman, which had always made the affection she bestowed on Faramir more touching to behold. And we sat in the nursery for a little while, and played with Elboron, and cosseted Morwen, and then we went downstairs and fell to talking. I asked her gently how she liked her new daughter, which seemed to be a great deal, and she admitted that now her son was more active, her interest in him had grown. 

'I am glad to hear all this, my dearest lady,' I said, 'but still my heart near broke to behold you and my nephew last night.'

A wave of great sorrow passed across her face.

'What you said to him...' I ventured. 

The sorrow became remorse. 'Dear uncle,' she said, and she was near to tears, 'I beg you not to reproach me, for I do it myself daily.'

'Why then say these dreadful things?'

And now she was indeed weeping, very softly, and I moved to sit near her, to comfort her, and held her hand. 

'He is so cold...' she whispered. 'So remote. He works all day and, when he does come home, he sees only the children, or seals himself into his study. He will not speak to me or touch me. He seems unwilling even to look at me. And I have tried and tried, but it seems the only way to get his attention is to attack him - '

'You certainly get his attention, but I doubt that you will thus make him less remote,' I pointed out. 

She wiped at her tears. 'He holds me in contempt. He believes I fail as a mother, and I believe he is close to the mark.'

'Éowyn, that is nonsense! I have seen you with your children, and it is plain that you love them with all your heart!'

'I should never have become a mother,' she said sadly. 'All I shall do is ruin those poor children as surely as we ourselves were ruined. And I shall not have the excuse of being dead, although at times I wonder if it would be better for them if I were, and there father could be left to bring them up without me.' The tears rolled down her face again.

'You must not say, not even _think such terrible things! Éowyn, how can you believe this? That they would be better without a mother - and one so extraordinary as you? Whatever nonsense my nephew has contrived to say, you must dismiss it as being not on your account and entirely as stemming from his own disastrous childhood. And he should have enough sense to see that himself.' I took a breath. 'You both should, lady,' I added very gently. _

She did not answer immediately, merely sat for a while with her head lowered, her face veiled by her hair. In time, she spoke again. 'He turns out,' she said, with much hesitation, 'not to be the man I believed I was marrying.'

'It would be a miracle if he had,' I muttered, but said, 'How so, Éowyn? What sort of man did you think you were marrying?' 

'A kind man, and a gentle man,' she said.

'He is above all these things,' I replied, although given their display the previous evening, I could see how she might have begun to reach a different conclusion. 

'One who would love me - '

'He would give up his life for you and the children you have together,' I said; for I knew that whatever he felt when he reached for a weapon, should his beloved family be threatened, he would seize the hilt of a sword without hesitation, whatever it cost him. 

'One who would bring honour upon our house,' she said.

I did not answer straightaway, for I was not yet clear how much she knew, and it was not my place to tell her that her husband was ill. This had to come from him, I deemed, if this poor couple were to have any chance of happiness together. And if she did know, and despised him for it, then she was less the woman I had judged her to be, and I would rather have him without her, no matter how much it cost him at first to lose her. 

'How does he not bring you honour, Éowyn?' I asked softly. 'The sacrifices he made during the war; all that those years of fighting cost a man like him... The service he has given the King since then - and what he has done in the past year, ruling the kingdom wisely and justly. There are few men in either Gondor or Rohan to be held in such honour as your husband.'

'And yet he let you ride east in his place, and he sits here in Minas Tirith, pushing paper around his desk. He will not even wear the sword I gave to him to protect us.'

Two things were plain to me then. Firstly, that she still did not know about his illness. And, secondly, and consequently, that my nephew was a greater fool than I would ever have believed possible of him. 

'My lady,' I said at last, 'Whatever his demeanour and the deepest desires of his heart, Faramir is not solely of the line of Dol Amroth. He is as much the son of Denethor as of Finduilas - more so than he admits even to himself. You would be very wise, I think, to remember this, for the Lord Denethor was a stern and even at times a cruel man, not given much to pity, nor to love. And I think, although I love him greatly and it causes me pain to say it, that my nephew could very easily become like his father, should he be too much hurt or disappointed. His will is as strong as his father's was, and it has only been through great self-restraint that he has schooled himself to gentleness. You make a grave mistake if you judge him weak.'

It was clear from her face that I had given her much to think about. 

'For the sake of yourselves and the children you both hold so dear, I ask you - Éowyn, I _beg you - talk to your husband. Ask him again to explain why it is he will not go to war. For I fear that soon it may be too late for you; and while you and he may make yourselves as happy or as unhappy as you choose, you have children now, and neither of you, I think, wish to make their childhoods as miserable as your own.'_

And she sighed, and nodded, and I knew for certain I had done the right thing in speaking to her so frankly. 

It was early in the evening when I went to see my nephew, and he was still hard at work. A messenger stood before his desk, and the steward was busy scribbling away. He looked up and smiled warmly but a little absently when I entered, and I nodded to show I would wait until he was ready. In time he finished, sealed the letter with his silver ring, and sent the messenger off with quick but courteous instructions. 

'Did I come too early?' I said, closing the door behind the messenger, for I wished this conversation to be private. 

'No, I am finished for the day. And I would stop on your account anyway.'

'I am honoured, my lord steward!'

He gave me another absent smile, and came from behind his desk towards the hearth, before which stood two chairs, and a small table, piled high with books and one or two bottles. I sat in the seat he gestured towards, and glanced at the titles on the spines of the books. None seemed to be related to his work, and I wondered exactly how much time he spent here. He poured out the drinks, handed me a glass, and sat down opposite me. We talked for a while about his day, but he had plainly not been much enthralled and perhaps instead rather wearied by the day's business, and we soon drifted onto other matters, such as the imminent arrival of the King. And then we fell quiet. He appeared to have lost the art of small talk or, at least, had taken to spending more of his time in silence. After a moment or two studying his rather preoccupied face, I took the plunge. 

'I saw your wife this morning,' I said.

He gave me a sharp look. 'Did you indeed?' he said dryly. 'And how is she?'

'Not at all happy,' I answered. 'As I'm sure you can guess.'

He said nothing, but stared into his glass, swirling the liquid around with a gentle, steady motion. 

'What has happened to you both, Faramir?' I said quietly. 

He gave a short, embittered laugh. 'It is quite simple. My wife believes that I am a coward. And so she holds me in contempt.'

'And have you _still not explained to her?'_

'Explained what precisely? That my hand shakes when it reaches for a sword? That I weep at nights at the memory of battle? That I would hang myself rather than ever again go to war? You truly believe that she would not judge all this cowardice? What else is it?' 

'You know better than to say that - '

'Thank you, but I am the best judge of my own state of mind - '

'And what of all those other men you have known that have suffered the same as you? Do you judge them cowards too? I can see from your face that you would not dream of dishonouring them so. Why, then, should you be any different, Faramir?'

He did not answer me, but a shadow settled on his face. 

'I think you underestimate your wife,' I said eventually. 

'I think you do not know her as well as I.'

'And I think that you do not know her as well as you think.'

Again he fell silent, but then he set down his glass, rose, and went to lean on the mantelpiece. When he turned to look at me again, he folded his hands behind his back, and his face was now very pale. And it took me a moment to grasp, since this was not an expression that he had ever presented to me before, that he was extremely angry. I rose to face him and, as I did, I remembered that I had seen that look before; and it seemed to me that more than thirty years had rolled back, and that I was standing before the Lord Denethor. I was most upset and, I admit, quite unnerved at the transformation in him. I raised my hands to calm him. 

'Look, son - ' I began, but he cut me short. 

'You have overstepped yourself, sir,' he said softly. 

I gasped, for he had never spoken to me so coldly before.

'It is not your place, sir, to pass judgement on my affairs. What passes between me and my wife is our own business, and I would ask you in future to remember that. I do not deem it appropriate to offer my opinion on your domestic arrangements, and I must, I fear, insist that you extend the same courtesy to me.'

'Now look here, son - ' I began again, more firmly, for I was now, I admit, somewhat nettled.

'I would ask you also to bear in mind, my lord prince,' he said, and his face had gone even paler and his fury unmistakeable, 'that I am not your son, and you are not my father. This persistent confusion in your mind has, I think, led you to assume an authority over me which in fact you do _not have.'_

I was very angry by now, at what I saw to be his ingratitude, the precision with which he delivered his blows and, most of all, at his uncanny impersonation of his father, a man who had always managed to play havoc with my self-control. And I was overcome with a powerful urge to strike him - but I am not such a man as Denethor son of Ecthelion, and with an effort I controlled myself. But I was not sure how long this restraint would stay in place, and I deemed it best that I left at once. 

'I am glad that we have clarified matters between us, my lord steward,' I said, rather bitterly, as I made for the door. 'And I shall take up no more of your valuable time. But I'll say one thing else, Faramir,' I added, as I turned the handle on the door. 'No-one would mistake you for anything other than your father's son. It's as if he lives and breathes.' And then I bowed in a mockery of courtesy, and I left him before we said any more that we would later both regret. 

As I made my way out of the citadel, my face still scarlet, that regret took immediately hold of me. This was most certainly not how I had intended this exchange to play out, and I deeply regretted my final remarks, which now seemed unnecessarily cruel. And I fell to thinking about what he had said; for, indeed, he was always such an easy-tempered and compliant man, and I remembered so acutely the forlorn boy that he had been, that it was, I thought now, perhaps too easy to treat him as if he were still much younger than he was and in need of my protection still. Moreover, it struck me now that in this I had possibly done him an injustice as great as that his father had done him, although without the appalling physical coercion, in not taking him entirely seriously on his own terms, and in giving him less than my full respect. He was, after all, as he had said, not my child, nor my junior, but a lord of the realm and head of his own house as much as I; and he had demonstrated repeatedly his excellence, in his service to Gondor as a soldier and again, most recently, ruling the realm for a year not just competently, but admirably. He was indeed my peer and not my subordinate. 

And I wondered then if it was that perhaps he should be left to make what he would of his life, mistakes and all. But I prayed for Éowyn's sake that, should she decide that it was time to attempt a reconciliation, that it would not be the ghost of his father that met her, but his own decent and honourable self. And after I went into my house, I sat for a while with my head in my hands, and I swore never to interfere in another marriage again.


	9. Chapter IX

A/N: OK, posting 3 chapters all at once here. Two reasons. Firstly, Éowyn had to come next, and she took a long time to tell me what she was thinking. Faramir and Imrahil don't seem to have this problem. I blame patriarchy myself. Anyway, their chapters were written ages ago, so I thought you might as well have them straight away. Secondly, and quite frankly, I held off posting because I was afraid I was going to get lynched. Still am. 

IX

In those first few dreadful weeks after the armies went east, I came to believe that my husband had only two ways of speaking to what I believed he deemed a recalcitrant female, neither of which greatly endeared him to me. His first tactic seemed to be to command sternly, which might have worked from a man that I respected more. The second was to beseech tearfully, which made me respect him even less. I remained obdurate in my desire to return to Emyn Arnen but, depending on whichever mood took him, he would either forbid it, or plead with me to explain to him why it was I wished to abandon him. 

I was somewhat sick again at this time and, while I would not have admitted this to him, there came a point where I was unsure that I could have faced the move home. Thus when the Haradrim put paid to whatever chance I had of going back to Ithilien - for with their raids in the south I would not have risked myself, my son, and my yet-to-be-born child there - I confess it came as something of a relief to me. But by then it was as if strife had become to us second nature, for although the cause of our contention was removed, still we quarrelled, ceaselessly and senselessly. And, one evening, after a particularly bitter argument, he strode out of the house and did not return. I believe he must have gone to the citadel, where many officers could be housed, but he did not say. 

For, after that, he froze. And then it was as if he disappeared. Each day, by the time I rose - and I rose early - he had already gone. When I went to bed he would often not have returned. And if he did come back, he would walk past my sitting room, even when I left the door open as an invitation for him to join me, and make directly for his study. In time, I simply closed the door. When we did encounter each other, which could not be avoided, even in a house this size and despite his obvious efforts, then he was almost silent. He would not meet my eye, and he would answer me in single words - unless I attacked him, in which case I would perhaps merit an entire sentence. And so I became convinced that he must despise me, and I became very sad, for I could remember all that he had said about my abilities as a mother, and I knew that he was right. I would watch him with his son, and envy him his easiness with the child, and his unaffected and tender demonstrations of his love for him, which I felt I had never quite mastered. How complex my emotions were to see him thus! For he was so gentle and loving with Elboron that I could see that this was indeed still the man that I had married, and I loved him. And yet, I could remember how once this all this gentleness and tenderness had been directed towards me too, but now, it seemed, I longer merited it. 

As the months went by, however, and the time that the child was due drew closer, it seemed that he wished to be beside me once again. And although at times I wondered whether it was in fact his child he wanted to be near rather than the mother he had said he so despised, still I welcomed him near me. For although bearing this child had been much easier than I had feared, still I felt tearful and wished for harmony between us, so that we could at least make a pretence of being a family, and happy. And although we did not speak much, and although often he did not seem to want to meet my eye, his touch was very gentle, and longed-for, and he soothed me greatly as my time drew near. And when our daughter arrived, I was so less tired afterwards than I had been with our son, and she was so delightful, that I found myself laughing easily at the sight of her. And this seemed to please him very much and, while he was still very quiet, he would spend a great deal of time with us; and, although he disguised it, I knew that he was letting me choose whatever name I desired for her. And this gesture moved me a great deal, and so I named her for my grandmother. Not only was this in part to link my own daughter to my mother's line, but my grandmother had come from Gondor, and I knew that this acknowledgement would please him. I did not want to give her a Rohirric name for, I thought, he would always struggle with it; but I did not mention this to him, for it would have wounded him. While it saddened me that we could not jest in our old way, still it mattered more to me to keep the peace. 

In later days, when I thought back on this golden time, it had the quality of a dream. For the weather was warm but mild, and our daughter was beautiful, and our son made me laugh, and my husband began, with much hesitation, to talk to me again. He spoke about his work, to which he dedicated so much of his energies, and he said that he had been worried at the start of the year that he might prove not capable of doing the job of steward, which seemed strange to me, and I said so quite frankly, since he was plainly a man of great ability. And this seemed to comfort him a great deal, and he would speak a little more of matters to do with his office that troubled him. One day, almost off-handedly, he mentioned he had been considering a journey south to Poros, for while our borders were now secure, he wanted to see first-hand the condition of the company and the security of the marches. But he was undecided on the matter, since Morwen was not quite a month old, and he did not want me to feel abandoned. But I encouraged him to go, since I felt very well, and also I believed that his propensity to work too hard made him tired and sometimes ill, and I thought a journey from the city would be good for him. And, most of all, I believed it was his duty and that he had been neglectful of it in this respect. While I tried hard to understand his ardent desire for peace, still his avoidance of certain aspects of his office seemed to me on occasion to be wilful. And whatever the King had said to me, I feared that in time this could become a source of contention between them.

And so he rode off - and then returned, very late one night, and days earlier than expected, and I recalled the first trip away from me that he had made, when much the same had happened. But this time he was a man utterly changed. When I heard him come in, I went out to greet him, and he was already on his way towards his study. And I was hurt to see that he would again avoid me rather than speak to me, and I begged him to tell me what had brought him back so soon, for I was disturbed that once more he seemed to be neglecting his duty. And he would not answer me, and so I pressed and, very quickly, my questions and his evasions turned into accusations and counter-accusations, and it was one of our bitterest arguments, for both of us knew how fragile was the trust that had begun to emerge between us, and were angry at the other for threatening it. And, at the last, the quarrel ended, but with no resolution, as I slammed the door of my sitting room in his face and told him to leave me in peace and, passive as ever, he obeyed. 

Gone now was the peace we had built between us, and the speed of its collapse only showed up its weakness. Once again, he became silent, but now he also became stern, and even, I thought, bitter, and every statement I made to him was met with a rebuff. He became very protective of the time he spent with the children, insisting on being with them at a particular time of the day but without me, and he otherwise withdrew completely from the house to his office. And this change in him distressed me greatly, for this cold and unforgiving man was barely recognizable as my husband, and I did not know where to turn. Often I found myself weeping without warning, and I became again very lonely, and lost in this great stone city, and I thought of Denethor and Finduilas, and I became afraid. 

It was the Queen that came to my aid. For she came to see me one afternoon, and she herself seemed a little melancholy, and she confided how she missed her husband - and suddenly I was weeping again. And I felt ashamed that I should be unhappy when my husband was near me, and yet it somehow felt worse to me that it was his presence that made me feel so alone. I told the Queen a little of my worries, of how he had become immersed in his work and withdrawn from me, but I said nothing of the bitterness of our exchanges when we did meet, or my fears about the neglect of some aspects of his duty, for this felt disloyal. And the Queen listened gravely, and with concern on her face, and sat for a while in thought. Then she gave me a very dry smile, and patted my arm, and she spoke. 

'I wonder, Éowyn, what sort of women we are to sit in such misery and simply bear it? I, at least, am not content to continue this way. I hope that you agree with me.'

And then, suddenly, the days became very busy, as we seemed to spend a great deal of time down in the city, and almost every day it seemed she had something new for us to do, or to see, and there were concerts and theatre, and good food and better wine, and she even persuaded me to shop with her and, more miraculously, to enjoy it. Of course, I realize now, that the Queen was, in a very shrewd and unobtrusive way, taking a confused and unhappy young woman from Rohan, and giving her the education to enable her not just to endure but to thrive in court and as the wife of the Steward of Gondor. For one day, as we were leaving my home, I caught a glimpse of myself in the long glass at the side of the door, and I realized in horror that I looked like nothing so much as one of the fine court ladies that I so much despised. 

'What have you done to me?' I cried. 

She looked at me and smiled. 'Do not claim that you do not enjoy it!' 

'You have turned me into the enemy!' 

She laughed out loud, but then came to me and put her hand gently against my face, and became very serious. 

'Dearest Éowyn,' she said, 'I have not turned you into the enemy. You are as strong and as remarkable as you have always been. And now you are quite formidable.' And then she smiled at me merrily. 'Come along! We have a city to petrify.' And indeed we did, since who could withstand both the Queen of Gondor and the Lady of Emyn Arnen? 

And I found that as a result of this new assurance I could face my husband's distance with greater equanimity, and although it was still easy to find myself doubting my ability as a mother and filled with sadness if we should exchange a few harsh words, I felt more hopeful, for soon his uncle would arrive, and I planned to confide in him what I had not dared tell the Queen, for the Prince had known my husband throughout his life and, would, I hoped, be able to throw some light on this change he had undergone. 

Although it was a joy to see the Prince again, I do not think he much enjoyed his dinner, and indeed it was not a pleasant occasion. My husband and I had exchanged sharp words before his arrival, and we quarrelled in our own coldly courteous fashion throughout the meal. I watched the alarm cross my uncle's face and, as he reached for more and more wine, I wondered for one brief moment whether he was going to lose his temper. And I became ashamed that he had been forced to witness the distasteful sight of the Lord and Lady of Emyn Arnen at each others' throats; for before another, and one whose respect I so much desired, our performance seemed objectionable, and madness. I made him promise to come and see me the following day, when we could speak more freely. And he did speak freely to me then, but not as much as I would have liked. For in between his kind solicitude that was so very welcome to me, and his generosity about my fears as to what kind of mother to me, and his gentle advice to talk to my husband, he made a rather cryptic remark that set me thinking. _Ask your husband to explain why it is he will not go to war._

When he left, I fell to thinking about this, and wondered what he could have meant. And as I thought more upon it, it seemed indeed that this did appear to be close to the root of all our troubles, starting with my husband's unexpected return from Ithilien one night, his hurtful refusal to wear my sword, the sudden bitter row following his trip to Poros, his reaction to any comment made about his duty and, of course, the fact that he had remained here in Minas Tirith despite all my misgivings. My husband's gift for silence was also, I thought now, one for evasion. And I had been so preoccupied with my own troubles, my worries about being a mother, and about being trapped in this city, that he had thus far managed to deflect my attention from any serious consideration of his own concerns. 

Then I fell also to thinking of the great gift that the Queen had given me in the past few months, that of confidence and greater respect for myself, and I determined that I would make my husband talk to me, no matter what obstacles he threw in my path, through awkwardness or, as I now began to suspect, through sheer terror. For this was, I deemed, the only way that our marriage could be saved. And, now that it came to the pinch, I knew that I did want to save it - not just for our children, but because I loved this man, who with tenderness and compassion had pulled me back at the lowest point in my life, and then with whom I had shared great happiness, in the Houses of Healing, and before we were married in Edoras, and then those blissful months in Emyn Arnen. And I truly believed that despite all the damage we had inflicted upon each other over this past year, we could once more be happy together, if we could trust each other again. There was much in this marriage that was worth saving, I judged. I could save it, I decided, and I would save it. 


	10. Chapter X

X

The first three months after the King, my uncle, and the armies departed were not an easy time. Although I had governed the kingdom before when I had first become Steward, it was only very briefly and at a time when much was changing. Gondor was now a bigger realm, and I found the change from ruling Ithilien something of a shock. Moreover, very soon after the armies left for the east, we were facing incursions from the south and, while the Poros company was made up in the main of men that I had served with in Ithilien and thus trusted absolutely, still it was a great frustration and also, I deemed, a hindrance not to be able to take direct command. Very soon, I felt as if the kingdom was slipping from my control, and I began to think that I was outside of my capabilities. The Stewards of Gondor had maintained the realm for nearly a thousand years in the complete absence of any king. It would not, I thought, be much of a tribute to my forefathers to wreck it in the space of twelve months while the newly restored King was merely away conducting a war on our eastern borders. 

In the midst of these worries, the collapse of our marriage was most certainly not helping matters. For Éowyn and I argued so relentlessly such that it felt as if our home was itself a battleground. When the skirmishes on the southern marches began, my wife seemed to me to be quick and frequent in offering her opinions on the fact that I remained in the city. After her unambiguous expression of her estimation of me as a soldier and as a man, I had sworn that I would never tell her about my condition, for it was plain to me that she would judge it cowardice. I thought also, somewhat bitterly, that although I had not explained in detail about my health, still I would have liked her to trust that my choice to remain at home was not through laziness or weakness. But, at the back of my mind, it was hard not to think that perhaps her evaluation of me was accurate.  

In truth, this was a very bad time. My appetite disappeared, and I lost weight. I began to experience, almost daily, excruciating headaches, which made it even harder to carry out my responsibilities as Steward. And then, on one occasion in late January, after a particularly unpleasant encounter with my wife which I had conducted through a headache which was affecting my vision, I stumbled out of the house and sought some peace in the citadel. I went to one of the rooms reserved for officers, fell upon the bed, and was overwhelmed by such memories of the retreat from Osgiliath as I had not experienced since it had first happened in Ithilien. My head was on fire and I was shaking with the pain and the sense of unreality that such an attack engendered, and it came to me all of a sudden that I had not only made a disaster of my married life, but that I was not fit, in any sense of the word, to hold the office of steward. And having thought that, I was filled with a great sense of alarm, for I was not yet forty years old, but it seemed that all the roles that were available to me - soldier, husband, servant of the king - I was unable to perform. 

It was at this juncture that I deemed that the wisest course was to take my own life; and, this decision made, I felt light-headed and relieved, as if a great clarity had at last come to me. But after a few moments, other thoughts came into my mind. I thought how there had been many people that had made great sacrifices to keep me alive - the Ithilien company, that had fought alongside me for years, and preserved my life on many occasions, not least those that had stood over me when I had been struck down on the Pelennor, and protected me until my uncle could deliver me. And then there had been a direct forfeit of another man's life for my own - that of the old King of the Mark for that of the new Steward of Gondor. Should his death thus come to naught? 

Then I fell to thinking about my son, and the child that was to come, and how I, as a boy, had longed to have a mother, even one who only cared for me as much as my father did, for then I would at least have a mother. And I thought that I did not want to leave my son fatherless, even if he in time decided, as I had done, that his father was a bad father; for I myself had never wished Denethor dead, and had preferred that he had lived. And I thought that even if I made every mistake that it was possible for me to make, I could never be a father so dire as my own, for I had no desire to hurt my son, that I loved and thought beautiful, and could not contemplate ever wishing to harm in the way that my father had tried to harm me. And, indeed, I could not even if I wanted to, for I was unable now to touch a knife. And then, even in this frame of mind, I found it in me to laugh, for I realized that even if I had decided that it was best for me to end my life, the ways in which I could do it were somewhat limited, since there were few weapons now that I could hold. There would be no stabbing, and no throwing myself upon my sword and, I thought, I did not much care to learn whether my own father had discovered a satisfactory means of self-annihilation. And as I closed my eyes and felt myself drift into sleep, I remembered again two important facts; first, that throughout my life, whenever I had despaired, things had, on the whole, often seemed better in the morning light and, next, that I had never much cared for pain. 

And, despite the strain of the night before, I woke early and indeed felt better, and a very weak light was coming in, and I sat up on the bed, and wrapped the blanket around me, for since it was near the end of January it was quite cold, and I considered at length what I should do. And I judged that first I needed to take in hand the matter of my health, for upon this depended my ability to carry out any duty or responsibility with any measure of success. It seemed to me, thinking upon the previous months, that what I craved most was quiet, and that I needed to ensure this around me; it also seemed that the main source of discord was our marriage. I perceived now that I could no longer sustain the way that we were living if I wanted to perform to the best of my ability those duties which I deemed of the greatest significance - my duty to my king, to my child and children when that became the case, and to her, whom I loved above all but seemed only able to hurt and not protect in the way that I so desired. And I determined that I should keep my peace when facing her; or, if this was not possible, to stay away from her. For I knew that if we continued in the same fashion, it would destroy us both. And with me ill, and she in her condition, to torment each other seemed madness and close to cruelty. 

So I re-ordered much about my life and I strove above all to keep all about me harmonious. I would come to my office very early and work late and, on occasion, simply remain there reading, or else, if I did go home, go straight to my study to rest and read. And I found that these measures had a great deal of success, for my appetite came back, and I felt my health improving daily. My headaches ceased or, at least, became less frequent, assailing me instead every few weeks; and although this was more often than when I had been governing Ithilien, I thought it was to be expected that governing the realm would inevitably cause me more anxiety. I also judged that, if I should feel the familiar thumping in my head, then it was foolish of me to force myself to work through it, for this had only made me exhausted for longer. If I quit while in the initial stages, and slept, then I was back to myself within the day. I set up a room in the citadel for this eventuality, for this meant that I could easily be reached in an emergency, and that I did not need to face my wife when I was feeling ill. And, most thankfully, I did not experience again that terrible sensation that I was back at the retreat.

My new application had a marked effect on my administration of the realm. The work seemed less overwhelming and more manageable; moreover, and which was of the greatest relief to me, we began to see successes on the southern borders. I began to believe that it was possible that I would make a success of my stewardship, and that I would not, after all, hand back a kingdom in ruin. And for a few months, all went quiet at home, and I watched her anxiously but furtively, and she seemed well throughout this time, and I saw with relief that it seemed the summer would be mild, and so she would not feel so heavily the burden which I knew she felt she bore. 

And there were several weeks, leading up to and just after the birth of our new child, when I thought we might be close to a reconciliation. For although I had decided that we were best apart, it proved impossible to continue this at this time. All I wanted was to be close to her and to do all that I could to comfort her, and she seemed to welcome my presence. It was still very hard for me to look upon her, for I felt that I had failed her badly, but we were able to touch one another again, although we still spoke very little. In the days after our new daughter arrived, I would sit beside Éowyn as she lay in the bed, and she seemed delighted with the new child, and I thought how different this was from her exhaustion the previous time and, since I too was overwhelmed with joy, I believed we were now heading for happier times, and that this lovely new gift would change everything. And so it seemed, for some weeks. 

And then I made what, with hindsight, I can see was a bad decision. At the back of my mind, I had always told myself that my illness was a temporary matter and that, even if I could not yet arm myself, still I thought I could, with sufficient effort of will, overcome my fears, and return to my duty. For I did not think that I was a coward, although I perhaps felt it, and I judged that my absence from the field did indeed make a difference to my ability to command, and this failure in performing my duty to the fullest extent I felt keenly. It was with these thoughts in mind that I decided to go to the Poros station and see first hand what had been happening there throughout the border troubles. I suspect that if my uncle or the King had been at hand they would not have allowed this journey, but I was in command, and nobody offered a contrary opinion when I spoke of my intention to go. Éowyn accepted it as my responsibility, and seemed quite pleased to hear that I had made this decision, and I was glad to think that I had chosen a course of action which might even further secure this new peace that we had.

The journey was long and I felt it, for I had little time or need these days to ride and be outside, and I had also been ill. And the moment I set foot inside the camp I knew I had made a terrible mistake. For the sights and the sounds were overwhelming; not enough, praise the Valar, to cause me to relive the retreat, but enough for me to feel that I had somehow journeyed into the past, or into a realm of dreams, or nightmares. After an uneasy day or so touring the camp, we rode a short distance to see where the last raid had been fought off, and I looked upon the site of this small battle - and it had hardly been even that - and I was overcome with grief, and wept; at the thought of the men that we had lost, and also at the many more that we had slaughtered. And I knew then for certain, as I had not yet admitted to myself, that my days as a soldier were truly over, and that I would never fight again, and I rode back for Minas Tirith straightaway. So there was, I think, an inevitability about the scene that followed, when I came into the house tired and unhappy, and she came from her sitting room surprised to see me and pressed to know the reason for my early return. And it was enough for me to seal myself back inwards, to protect us both from each other. 

As the weeks passed, we heard news of the victories in the east, and so my thoughts fell to ensuring that the realm was in good order for the King's return, and I immersed myself in my work. My only significant contact with Éowyn now was when we were obliged to attend diplomatic occasions together, and she performed her duties admirably, although I believed this was more on account of the King and Queen, whom she loved, than any favour to me. For I found that if we were forced to spend a length of time alone in each other's company, we would once again fall into our old pattern, and I tried for the sake of us both to prevent these situations arising. 

My children were my greatest joy, and I would leave my office for an hour or so every day, and spend that time with them. Although I had always worked well with my staff, still it was necessary to keep some small distance in order to maintain my authority, and it was not the same as the companionship I had shared with the men in Ithilien. I would on occasion feel that the only person that looked upon my presence with genuine affection was Elboron, who was growing quickly, and would always smile at me upon my arrival. And my new daughter was so beautiful, and I would sit with her in the same way that I had sat with my son, simply looking and holding and admiring her. And sometimes, when Éowyn did not know that I had returned a little early, I would watch her with them, and it was plain to me that she was a fine mother and more, and I bitterly regretted the words that I said to her in anger - and yet always they would spring to my lips if I felt that she was judging me in her turn. 

And so I worked, and I read, and I held my children; and if, on some evenings, I sat in the quiet of my office and thought that perhaps I was a little lonely, I also reflected that this was how it had always been in my life, and that I had survived well enough thus far, and also that I should not have expected anything to change. But, on occasion, entering the house, I would catch her scent on the air, and I would feel famished. And then I would dream of her touch upon me, of holding her to me, the back of her neck against my cheek, her taste on my lips and her body close beside me. 

So it was for many reasons that I had been so much looking forward to my uncle's return, for he had ever brought me both consolation and perspective. I desperately wished to talk to him about my troubles, and how difficult the year had been at its outset. Perhaps, also, I desired praise from him; to have someone that I admired and respected to tell me that whatever the disaster I had made of the marriage, I had done my best for my king and my children and acquitted myself there, at least, satisfactorily. 

Éowyn's attacks at dinner with my uncle the previous evening had left me as tired as they always did. I went to my room hoping that some sleep would refresh me, but I woke the following morning with a slight headache that persisted but I judged would not affect my ability to function, but that did not help endear to me the frustrating minutiae of a small piece of business that had been plaguing me for weeks and which contrived to swamp the entire day. I had other things on my mind, a number of issues I wanted resolved before the King's return in order to hand back an office that was in good order, and the day had been utterly wasted on trivialities. It was with great relief, then, that I saw my uncle standing in the doorway, his presence as soothing as ever; and I thought that I could now unburden some of my worries and hear his advice. What I wanted was reassurance. What I got was the truth. 

He had seen Éowyn that morning and he had heard, no doubt in detail, about what a bad and cruel husband I was; how I did not speak to her, how I held myself distant. For I knew that I did all these things. And, more, I knew that I did them intentionally; not to hurt her, since hurting her made this all the more painful for me, but because I had to protect us from the wounds which we would otherwise inflict upon ourselves. But I did not get a chance to explain this to him, and it was plain that he was in complete sympathy with my wife. And I had not thought of this matter before as one in which sides should be taken for, although I would respond to her in anger, still I felt that much of the blame needed to put at my own door. But as he spoke I felt strangely bereft, as if this man that I had loved throughout my life as much as, if not more than, a father, had at last abandoned me, as had everyone else before him. And his appraisal wounded me, as if, despite all my struggles throughout the year, with my health, and my work, and my role as a father, it had all proven, once again, not to be good enough. So I became angry with him; particularly that he could so quickly reduce me to this degree of despondency, as could my wife, and I felt sick and tired of the relentless and uncompromising scrutiny of others, and I wondered just how much of myself I had to sacrifice before it was sufficient to gain even a small amount of respect from those around me. 

And so we argued, and he left in anger, and his parting shot hit hard and it hit deep, and I deserved it. And I sat for a while in my chair with my head in my hands, and I indulged myself for a little while in self-pity, and then I berated myself for this and most of all for my obstinacy, and all the other flaws that my abominable father had bequeathed me. And then I stood up, and I tried, as I always did, to draw a line at the end of a bad day. I decided to go home, sleep, and the following morning to go to my uncle and, if necessary, kneel down before him and beg for his forgiveness, or do whatever it was that it would take to redeem myself in his eyes. I would pick up a sword for him, if he asked. 

When I entered the house, I saw that there was a light, but it did not trouble me. It was not yet very late, and I had not expected her to have gone to her chamber. Most evenings I would go into my study, but tonight I simply wanted to sleep. My head was still aching, and there was a strong possibility now that it could get worse. If I got to bed straight away I would be well enough in the morning to deliver an apology the sincerity of which would be, I prayed, quite apparent. I could only hope that my uncle would be willing to hear it. I suspected that in his place I might not be - but then he was, as I had amply demonstrated that evening - a much better man than I. 

I headed for the stairs, and as I reached the first step, I heard a door open. And there stood my wife. 

'I thought you would be dining with your uncle this evening,' she said. 

'We changed our plans,' I said, for I had no intention of telling her we had argued. 

'Are you hungry?' 

'Not particularly,' I said, hiding my surprise at her question. And, indeed, when I was distressed I often lost my appetite, one of the reasons I had been so ill the previous year. 

'I was going to eat,' she said. 'Will you join me?'

'I confess that I am rather tired. It was a... trying day. I thought I might go to bed.'

She looked exasperated. 'Will you at least join me for a few minutes?' she said. 'Or would that make the day even more trying?'

'That depends on whether or not you continue saying things like that.'

She closed her eyes, and appeared to be attempting to compose herself. Then she opened them, and even tried to smile. 'I promise to be the epitome of good manners.'

'Then I shall join you for a few minutes,' I said, a little warily, for nothing good had come of any encounter between us recently, but this was the closest we had had to a civil exchange in some time. I followed her into her sitting room; and it was, I realized, as I went in, indeed a while since I had last been in there. Nothing appeared to have changed, but this was very much her part of the house, and after I went in, I stood a little apprehensively to one side of the door, and folded my arms.

She came in, sat down, and looked at me standing there. 'When I said I was going to eat, I did not mean that I was planning on eating you,' she said. 'You can sit down and relax.'

'I instantly feel more at my ease,' I said, but sat in the chair to the right of her. 'Was there something in particular that you wanted?'

'I wanted to talk to you.'

I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees. 'Éowyn, please do not take this badly, but I really am very tired. If you feel we should be talking, I would rather we did it in the morning.'

'I do not like going to bed with unfinished business.'

'And I prefer to sleep on things.'

We looked at each other in silence. 

'Talk away,' I said at length, with a wave of my hand, and falling back wearily into the chair, 'but please remember that I asked if we could postpone this interview.'

She sighed. 'Your uncle came to see me this morning - '

'I know.'

'And he said that we should talk.'

'And did he say if we should talk before or after sleeping?' 

She gave me an angry look. 'Are you doing this intentionally?'

'No, it simply amuses me that after counselling me for all these years, my uncle has begun to dispense advice to you also. But I was wondering if he had anything to suggest other than simply "talk".'

'It would not be bad advice to you. I wish you would heed it.'

'I see that we are now moving directly from "talk" to accusation.' I stood up, annoyed that I had been persuaded to come into this room for nothing more than another scuffle. 'Was this all you had to say to me? That I should talk more?' 

She stood up and moved opposite me. Her eyes were glistening and she was shaking her head. 'I cannot understand why I even tried.'

'Indeed, my lady,' I said sharply, 'I did ask you not to.' And I began to make for the door. 

'Do not walk away from me!' she commanded, and her voice was now angry. 

I turned to look at her in astonishment. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Stay here and face me, if you dare!' she shot back, and her eyes were blazing at me.

'If I _dare? I think, Éowyn, that you over-estimate your capacity to induce fear. Although you most certainly provoke.'_

'What then is it that you fear? Why do you _run from me?'_

'Whatever it is that I fear, my lady,' I replied, and I heard the anger building in my own voice, for it seemed that once again she was drawing our conversation towards her favourite theme of my spinelessness, 'it is most certainly not you.' 

She moved rapidly towards me and I realized suddenly that she was raising her hand to hit me and, with a quick movement, I lifted my left hand, reached for her arm as it rose to strike me, and blocked her blow. And there we stood, touching properly for the first time in months, glaring at each other, with my left hand holding her right wrist. 

All of a sudden her beautiful face creased. 'My arm,' she whispered. And I looked down at where I was holding her, and there was a trickle of red, coming down from her wrist along her arm. It seemed that as I had grasped at her, my silver ring had caught her, and as a result she was bleeding. 

I was still shaking from the sudden descent into ferocity of our exchange. And I looked at her lovely face, shocked and dismayed, and then I looked at my hand, which was still gripping her wrist, and which was now smeared with her blood, and all the rage and frustration and disappointment and self-loathing that had been building up inside me at least since a winter's afternoon in Ithilien suddenly burst out from me. I dropped her arm as if it had burnt me and then, tearing at the ring on my finger, I pulled it off and, with as much strength as I could muster, I flung it across the room, cursing the day that I had put it on, the man who had left it to me, and the house whose taint it symbolized and which never ceased to torment me. Through my tears and my fury, I could just about make out Éowyn, her hands up against her face, and she seemed to be shaking and very frightened by this change in me, as indeed was I. I pressed my hands to my head and made to leave the room but, as I did, I passed by a cabinet standing against the wall and, clenching my fist, I punched it through its glass case. 

Then I quit the room, went to my study, and drank myself into a stupor for only the second time in my life, falling into an uneasy sleep on the couch. And when I woke very late the following morning, a sour taste in my mouth, it was to find that the Lady of Emyn Arnen had departed for Edoras, taking with her our children. 


	11. Chapter XI

XI

I went to see my nephew at his office the morning after our argument prepared to offer a full and unconditional apology if that was what it would take to get him talking to me. He had said some most hurtful things - and some, alas, both hurtful and accurate - but my chief concern now was to regain his trust. I wanted to get to the root of this change in him - but he would, I perceived, need careful handling. I had not had a great deal of success in my dealings with his father - a man I had loathed for what I thought was his merciless torture of his second son and for the great unhappiness he had brought to my sister. But I believed whole-heartedly that whatever disappointments my nephew had faced over the previous year, he was not by any means beyond recovery. Even at that remarkably unpleasant dinner, he had shown much of his old easy temper; and I had only to think of his face as he looked upon or spoke about his children to bring to mind at once the great difference between him and his own father. There was a great deal of cant uttered about Denethor's love for his older son, but I had always seen it as self-glorification on the part of the Steward of Gondor. On the subject of his treatment of his younger son, I could rage for hours. Denethor loved his sons when they reflected well upon him. Faramir loved his children because he was a good and decent man.

He was not at his office. A gentle and persuasive conversation with one of his clerks enlightened me not only to the clerk's current financial tribulations - about which I offered some considered and, I daresay, very shrewd advice - but also that the Steward would, on occasion, retire for the day to a room in the citadel to rest. It would not surprise me to learn that after our encounter the previous evening, Faramir might have made himself ill. I tapped on the door of this room, not intending for us to talk at length if he were there, but simply to find out if there was aught I could do for him, and thus make a gesture of reconciliation. There was no answer, so I opened the door onto a small but pleasant room which was clearly in regular use - but which currently stood empty. 

I spent some time checking offices and talking to staff to ascertain whether any business had taken him down into the city, but to no avail. So it was early afternoon before I tried what should have been the most obvious place - his home. All seemed very quiet. Éowyn was not home, and there was no sign of the children. I tried the door to the study and went in, and there he was. 

He was sitting on the edge of the couch and appeared, from the evidence of the hand at his brow and the bottle and glass I could see on the floor, probably struggling with the usual after effects of spending an evening putting away the best part of a bottle of brandy. He dropped his hand, looked up at me and my heart quailed. He seemed distraught.

'What has happened?' I said, coming over to him quickly and in some alarm. 

'She has gone.'

'What?'

'Éowyn has gone, and she has taken our children with her.'

'Well,' I said, chewing at my lower lip, 'I can't say I'm entirely surprised.' I looked at him closely. 'Did she speak to you last night?' I said warily, feeling a sinking sense of responsibility that it was I that had encouraged Éowyn to talk to him. 

He nodded.

'I now find myself in the position of asking whether she found herself talking not so much to Faramir son of Denethor as to Denethor himself?'

This was the point where he broke down. 

A great fear passed over me, as I wondered what it was that he could have said to her. I could believe Denethor capable of much, and I dreaded to think what terrible things Faramir might have said whilst in the guise of his father. The precision of Denethor's cruelty with his intellect and his eloquence had been one of his most appalling characteristics, as his second son knew too well, and Faramir had demonstrated to me only the previous evening that this lay well within his own abilities too. I had left him in a foul temper, and I could imagine that Éowyn would have pressed hard once she had decided that the matter of their marriage had to be resolved. Again, I felt a stab of responsibility. I should have brought them to my home, to neutral territory, and sat with them as they talked, rather than let them loose upon each other. They had had a year of that already and got nowhere.

I sat beside him. 'Tell me, son,' I said quietly, not caring for the moment that this term of address had enraged him the previous day. 'What did you say to her?'

'It was not what I said,' he whispered, 'it was what I did.'

That plain terrified me. For I had seen how Denethor would punish his sons when they played up - but surely Faramir would not have raised his hand to his wife in a similar fashion? The boy abhorred violence to such a degree he could no longer go about armed. Even mere discussion of warfare had, on that memorable occasion the previous year, brought about an extraordinary collapse. 

With a great deal of effort, I coaxed the story from him; of Éowyn's ill-starred attempt to salvage the marriage, his own tiredness and remorse at our row that had made him somewhat less than responsive, the rapid degeneration into another quarrel, and the sudden and perhaps predictable wrath on her part. He then became exceptionally distressed about his steward's ring although, as he told me in somewhat garbled fashion of the rest of the evening's events, I privately thought Éowyn would have been considerably more disturbed by his subsequent frenzy and his dubious decision to put his fist through a pane of glass. His hand was mercifully uncut, if a little bruised. But he kept coming back to the ring, which seemed to have taken on an enormous significance for him, and which made him talk somewhat incoherently about how it had been his father's and was a plague on the family. It always, I thought, inevitably came back to Denethor. 

'I swear,' I muttered, trying to keep my voice under a tight control, 'I wish I'd throttled that father of yours years ago. The only favour that man ever did me was to kill himself and prevent me becoming a murderer.'

'I think you will find, uncle, that it was not my father that injured my wife last night.' He put his head into his hands. 'And knowing what he would do to my mother...' Then he began once again to sob uncontrollably. 

It was as if I had been knifed in the heart. I looked upon him in complete shock. I had once or twice wondered whether Denethor had laid a finger upon my sister, and I had dismissed it as being beyond the capabilities even of that vile man, despite the later evidence of his severe way of disciplining of his sons. But I had truly not believed it possible...

_Oh, my sweet sister, how I failed you..._

What had my nephew seen that had impressed itself even upon a five-year old? And, more, what could he be feeling now that he had even quite by accident hurt his own wife?  

I put my arm about him and, in time, he stopped shaking. 'Faramir,' I said gently and calmly, trying to disguise my own very great distress, 'what would he do?' 

It took him a little while to answer. 'I do not remember very much about it,' he said softly, and he seemed now a little dazed, 'but Boromir would sometimes speak of it. I think it confused him and he wanted me to explain it. He loved father very dearly.'

Removing himself from my hold, he stood up and made as if to leave the room, and I followed him. When he reached the doorway, he stopped and ran his hand thoughtfully down the wood of the frame. 'He pushed her back once against here,' he said. 'And she hit her head on the edge. She wept for hours.' He gestured into the hallway. 'I was sitting on the stairs. When she ran past, he saw me there, and so he came up and he hit me too. That was the first time I recall him doing it. I don't know if it was because I was out of bed when I should not have been, or that I had seen his deed, or... Well, I never really grasped why he would lash out at me.' He breathed deeply. 'Éowyn hated this place,' he continued, tracing his fingers up and down the woodwork. 'I don't know why I brought us back here. It seems that shifting the furniture and painting the walls is not enough to cover over the dishonour of the house of the stewards.'

'Perhaps you should stop trying to cover it over,' I said gently. 

He moved to rest against the door frame and then leaned his head back on it. 

'Did he hit you very often, Faramir?'

'Quite often.'

'I knew he would punish you both severely when you misbehaved, but I thought that that was the full extent of it.'

'It was a little more than that.'

I wondered exactly how much more was being covered by that statement. 'So that occasion... you must have been about... eleven?'

He dropped his head to look at me dryly. 'You would have to be a little more specific,' he said. 

'Here in this house. Your father and I were talking in his study, and I think that your brother had been chasing you down the hallway, and he must have pushed you in through the door. You came flying in.'

He thought for a moment. 'Oh yes!' he said. 'I remember. Yes, he was furious with me. He did not like to be interrupted.'

'He shot across the room, grabbed you by the shoulders, shook you hard as he shouted at you, and then hit you full across the face, backhand then forehand. I had never seen anything like it in my life. I was so angry with him - and this shows you what kind of a man he was, he would drive anyone to violence - that after you had fled, I told him that if I ever saw him do anything like that to you again, I would break both his arms.'

'I should imagine then that you never saw him do anything like that to me again.'

And indeed I had not. 

'Did he strike your brother much?' I asked suddenly. 

He frowned. 'When he misbehaved,' he said. 'He always loved Boromir,' he added as if by way of explanation, which I thought rather tragic. 'And I think that there came a point where it was clear that Boromir would have struck him back. Perhaps he did once, I do not know.'

'And what did Boromir make of your father striking you?'

'As children, we both rather thought it was the order of things. Of course, it stopped when I got bigger. I wonder if he imagined I might strike him back too. Do you know,' he said, almost thoughtfully, 'I used to take pride in the fact that despite all his provocation, I never once lifted my hand to the Steward of Gondor, not even in self defence. But the moment that the crisis came, I was prepared to lift my hand to Éowyn. I shall never forgive myself for that.'

'It is not, I think, your own forgiveness that you need concern yourself about.'

'I suppose you are right.'

We did not speak for a moment, then I said, very faintly, 'My poor sister...' 

He turned to look at me, comprehension growing in his eyes. 'I had always assumed that you knew,' he said slowly, reaching for my hand.

I looked at him aghast. 'Do you imagine for a moment that if that was the case I would have left you all here?' I said passionately. 

His face twisted, in confusion now. 'I suppose I thought it was simply one of those things that was not mentioned.'

'There were rather too many of those, it seems. Faramir, I would have had all three of you back in Dol Amroth in no time.' I was very close to tears now, but restrained myself on his account. 

'I would have liked that,' he said, a little vaguely. 'I wish I had said something now.'

'So do I.'

After a long pause, he said, 'We were not entirely unhappy, you do understand that? He did love us; well, you know he loved Boromir very much, but he and I did have a great deal in common. We used to talk about books.'

This seemed to me a very impoverished sort of bond between father and son, but I did not say so. 

'I think that it was really only when I grew older and he knew that he could not entirely determine all my actions that he began to dislike me. By then I did not spend so much time in the city. But I did love him. He was my father. And my lord.' He frowned again. 'It is hard to reconcile the memory of that man with the other that people have told me about. The one that tried to kill me.'

I had no answer to that; and I, at least, could reconcile them very easily. 

He wandered into the hallway and I watched him anxiously. He stood for a moment looking round. 'What hour is it?' he said suddenly, and pushed his hand through his hair. 'I ought to go to my office. I have a great deal to do before the King gets back.'

'I think,' I said gently, 'that you should leave it for today.'

He frowned. 'I suppose I do feel rather tired. Perhaps it can wait until the morning.' 

He gazed around the hallway again. 'When I first met Éowyn, she did not care for me. I was very despondent about it; well, you know what I am like. I would rattle around this house thinking of her. And here we are again. Me, the ghosts, and the thought of her.'

I touched his hand again, and it was very cold, and he clutched back at mine. 'I think you should come back to my home tonight,' I said, and could only regret that the offer was coming more than thirty years too late. 

He hesitated, as if looking round for something, and then sighed. 'I was about to say that I would look in on the children first, but...' He shrugged. 'Well. Shall we go?' 

I took him home and, even though it was only mid-afternoon, put him to bed, where he quickly fell asleep. And I sat and watched him for some time as he slept, and his face was very pale and very tired, and I wept quietly, as I had often done before but, I think, this time with more grief, for my sister and her sons. 


	12. Chapter XII

A/N: Thank you to everybody who responded to the last batch of chapters - and didn't lynch me! Something a little gentler today, I think. 

I forgot to thank Isabeau last time I posted, which was outrageous of me, since she's so bloody brilliant and has helped so much, and sneaked Damrod's brandy, about which I have been fretting for some time, into her last but one chapter. 

Oh, and in passing, I'd like to mention that I am long-term happy with a splendid feller who, amongst his many wonderful characteristics (e.g. cooking), has not complained once that I have spent the last month thoroughly immersed in the head of another, fictional man, LOL! And I was also the spoilt baby sister of five much older siblings, so no horrid childhood either. But those court ladies really get my goat. 

eowyn in disguise: I'm chuffed that you've gone off to read TSE and I hope you like him. I'd love to know what you've said to your sister about the end. Hey, I need a clue too! 

Thank you to Kshar, who sent me this quotation which fits superbly, as well as absolutely brilliant feedback: 

_It is the hour of the complicated knitting on the safe bone needles; _

_            of the games of anagrams and bridge; _

_The deadly game of chess; the book held up like a mask.  
  
Louise Bogan, __Evening in the Sanitarium_

This is pretty exhausting stuff to write, I can tell you. But thank you everyone so much for reading it and writing back throughout. Episcopal Witch asked whether I envisaged any of this when I was writing the wedding scene - no I absolutely did not, LOL!! (But does anyone imagine this kind of thing on their wedding day?) I was going to try my hand at writing a sort of nice gentle _Persuasion style romance in which there was sadness and misunderstanding, but all was sorted out in about eight chapters. Blimey, I'd hate to get my subconscious on the couch. _

Oh, and Ricco - 'evil witch lady'?!? Have you been talking to my friends? Although they usually add 'from hell' at the end, LOL!

Altariel 

*******

XII

I woke early, and looked in on my nephew, who was in a deep sleep. I did not intend to wake him, judging it best he slept for as long as he needed. But I did stand and watch him for a while, thinking again of what he had told me the day before. I myself had lain awake far into the night, searching my mind and my heart for any memory or clue that might have warned me of the plight of my sister and her children. As I lay there deep in thought, I felt very badly, and believed I should have guessed for, although she had always been gentle and softly-spoken, she had become very quiet after her marriage; and then there was my nephew, too silent and wise for a child; and his brother, who tried so diligently to protect him he would even speak for him. And I did not feel that I could absolve myself from some responsibility in this tragedy, for I suspected I had become so caught up in the happiness of my own marriage and the joy of my own children that I had not paid enough attention to the warnings. But the most blame I laid at the door of that wicked man, and I thought bitterly that I was glad he had died in despair, after the great grief he had caused and the ruin he had brought upon his family. I looked again at my nephew and thanked the Valar that he, at least, had survived, however battered. 

But then I thought angrily how it might be that Denethor's baleful influence had savaged another family, for there were two young children caught between my nephew and his wife, two children that had not even known their grandfather, and yet were still suffering on his account. And, again, I could hardly bear to think of my responsibility in this matter, sending Éowyn in to confront a man whom I had judged was simply being obstinate. There was no question in my mind that I would give my nephew whatever he needed at this time in his life; and, indeed, I would have done it even if it had been that he was only being stubborn, for I thought of him as a son, and I loved my children however they might err. 

With a sigh, I left him to sleep, and went downstairs. It was only the third morning since my return to the city and I had, as yet, spent barely any time seeing to any business of my own, so I sat down to read through some of my papers over a good breakfast. After some time I became aware of the presence of someone else in the room. I looked up to see my nephew standing in the doorway, chewing his lip and looking at me very diffidently, his arms folded about him. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, which looked well scrubbed; and his eyes were clear, and I was glad to see that the dark shadows that had been about them the previous day had almost gone, for they had made him seem too pale. His clothes, I thought, seemed rather crumpled, but it looked as if he had rested well, and I was relieved, for I had feared he might dream during the night. 

'Come in!' I said cheerfully, setting down my papers. 'Have some breakfast.' 

He sat down to my right and helped himself to a dish of porridge, and then sat looking down at it. At closer range, I could see the tension around his eyes and mouth, but that hardly surprised me. Despite his much improved appearance and his obvious determination to put on a good show, I sensed that a gentle tap would be quite enough to break him apart, and I knew I had to take great care.

'How do you feel?' I prompted. 

'Well, I am no longer suffering the effects of all that brandy,' he said with a sigh, 'For which I am most thankful.'

'Not a habit you want to cultivate, I think.'

'I quite agree.' He picked up his spoon and started eating, with little enthusiasm. After a few moments he stopped, set down the spoon and stared into the bowl. 'I have not yet said to you...' Then he raised his head and looked at me directly, for he was not a coward. 'I am sorry, uncle. What I said - '

I held up my hand. 'You need say no more,' I replied gently. 

His shoulders slumped in relief. 'I had a whole speech prepared,' he confessed, 'During which I intended to grovel.' 

'I would not have you do that!' I said. 'Even if... yesterday had not happened. I was concerned about you, Faramir. It was as if I was talking to a different man.'

He started playing with his spoon. 'And we know which man that was.'

'Aye, well, you can see the cause of my concern. It was a shock to see you like that after so long away. You must have had a hellish year.'

'It has not been easy,' he mumbled. 

'How ill have you been?' 

'Somewhat, at the outset,' he said evasively.

'Faramir, give me a proper answer.'

He looked down at the table. 'The work overwhelmed me. I was very ill at the start of the year. It became better, then I went to Poros... ' He caught my expression. 'I know now it was unwise. I thought I had improved...' He sighed. 'I have not been very happy,' he concluded.

He was a man with a gift for précis, but sometimes he took it to extremes. 

'And so you judged that with everything else your wife was too much?'

'Something on those lines.' He pressed and lifted his forefinger on the bowl of the spoon and watched intently as the handle rose and fell, rose and fell. 

'Not, perhaps, one of your wiser decisions,' I said gently. 

He looked very sad, and did not reply. 

I cleared my throat. 'Well,' I said. 'That is a conversation for another day, I think. But in the meantime, I believe I owe you an apology in turn.'

He looked up at me in surprise. 'I cannot possibly imagine - '

'Well I can. I owe you an apology for not taking the trouble to establish whether my intervention was wise, and for not treating you with sufficient respect. Now finish that before it gets cold,' I said, pointing at his dish. 'My lord steward,' I added and he laughed, rubbed his forehead, and carried on eating. 

After a few moments he spoke again. 'I was anticipating something more of a lecture on my failure to... to inform my wife of my illness.'

'I told you my opinion on that more than a year ago. And I have no intention of lecturing you on anything after what you have been through. Particularly what you told me yesterday.' 

He flinched, and I worried for a moment if I had been wise to broach the topic. 'I wish I had said naught,' he murmured. 'My mother... your sister... I would not have told you like that; I am so very sorry...'

'An apology is hardly necessary from you on this count! The only apology should come from that abominable man and he, thankfully, is not around to offer it - which I doubt he would - '

'Please!' he said suddenly, putting one hand to his temple in a defensive gesture, to my great alarm. 'I have never said, but it helps little to hear how you so hated him!' He pressed his fingers harder against his head. 'It is all so tangled! Despite all, he was my father... I do not know to whom I should be loyal, and I beseech you not to keep forcing this choice upon me... I am so weary...' He put his hands down flat on the table, trying to control his distress, and then he looked at me. 'And while he may have despaired at the end, uncle, he did not surrender. He did not submit to the Enemy, and he fought with all his strength. This, I think, we are wont to forget.' 

We lapsed into silence, and I felt again ashamed. For, in truth, I had not before considered how badly he might feel hearing his father repeatedly maligned. And it was natural that a man as merciful as he would continue loving and forgiving Denethor, but at the same time his attachment and deference to me would have made my very vocal opinions a great strain for him. Hearing him speak I regretted now how quick I had always been to speak my mind and so place him in this quandary - but yet I was encouraged that he had now felt it safe to speak frankly to me on the matter. This, I judged, he could not have done before our quarrel - it seemed some good might come from it after all. For he had disagreed with me, and yet he had not had to assume his father's guise to do so, and had instead spoken from his own instincts, his sense of justice, and of pity. 

In time he spoke again. 'On the bridge at Osgiliath, Boromir and I were almost the only ones to survive, and we were both hurt...' His face darkened for a moment. 'Then we had to swim to shore... I'm sure you can picture the pair of us, staggering upriver back to camp. It was a few days before we could make the journey back here. But when we did get back, we walked into the Great Hall - well, I walked, Boromir limped; he had a sense of occasion when it came to getting injured - and all the council were there. Father went to Boromir first, of course, and embraced him, and said how glad he was that he lived. He was in tears. But then he extended his arm out to me, and embraced me too, and said he was glad that we both lived. And he _was glad. He felt better because I was alive. He had never done or said anything like that to me before, not in front of others. All of the council were there.'_

I rather thought that this was very much in character for Denethor, eking out his love to his younger son in crumbs, keeping him always hopeful and ever hungry, but of course I did not say so; and, indeed, there was no purpose in saying it to this troubled young man, struggling to find one proof in his life, in the face of all the evidence, that his father had indeed loved him. 

Instead I said gently, 'When I brought you to him after you were wounded - and I pray never to see you that way again - he was distraught.' 

'But at losing me, or at the fall of his house? I am unclear even as to whether he himself knew.' He propped his head on one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. 'I shall never know. And does it matter now, I wonder? For he is dead; and I think that, after all, I would rather have the love of the living.' And he gave me a tentative smile. 

'I too was distraught,' I said softly, for the memory of seeing his still, stricken body and thinking he was lost was very painful to me. 'A man should not outlive his sons, or those who are to him as dear as sons.'

His face creased, and I thought he might begin to cry, and while I was glad after all that I had pressed a little on this subject, for he plainly welcomed my reassurance that he could never lose my love and, more, he had now begun to open up to me, it was time to move him on before he crumbled once again. 

'What are you going to do today?' I said, taking a sip of my tea, and thinking the question was sufficiently open for him to answer whichever way he preferred.

He regained control, and steepled his fingers. 'First, go home and change my clothes.' He looked down and pulled a face. 'Day three. And I slept in them the night before last. And then - ' He shrugged. 'Back to work. All else may be in ruin, but Gondor trundles on.'

'Do you think that is really necessary?'

'What else would I do? Sit and think? I have done enough of that recently, too much, perhaps.'

'As you wish. I shall come with you, if I may,' I said casually, setting down my cup. 'You lost a day; perhaps there is something I can do to help you catch up.'

He narrowed his eyes at me and tapped the knuckles of his thumbs against his lower lip. My nephew was not a fool and knew quite well I had no intention of letting him go back to that house alone yet, and I did not think much of the idea of him wandering around his office by himself either. But I looked back at him ingenuously. 

'What? Do you think I would make a poor steward? What do you imagine I do all day at home?' 

He stretched back in his chair and folded his arms. 'Well, if you can think of naught better to do so soon after returning home, I shall not stop you.'

I sent someone to his house to bring back items for him for the next few days, which was better, I thought, than him returning there himself, and then we set off for the White Tower. It was clear that the news of the departure of the Lady of Emyn Arnen had passed round the citadel, but it was gratifying to see that while Faramir may have been cold to his wife during the previous year, he had remained much his usual self with his staff, and he could barely move a muscle without someone dancing discreet attendance upon him. The distraction of his work seem to soothe him a little, for here he was back in a domain which he had made well structured and organized. I leafed through some papers he handed me, but there was, in fact, little for me to do other than watch him as he worked, and it was good to see him absorbed in something other than his troubles. I was amused to see him navigate the legendary disarray of the room, effortlessly finding precisely the piece of information that he needed. He was indeed very able, and I could see why he might have chosen to tackle the manageable challenges of his office above the turbulent confusions of his home, and I hoped that this quick return was not yet another attempt at evasion. But after only a couple of hours he stretched back and looked up at me and, while the tension was still there about his eyes and mouth, he smiled, and I realized he had been right to do something which gave him a sense of accomplishment. 

'I think I may stop soon. It appears the kingdom did not collapse into chaos during my day's absence.' He raised an eyebrow. 

'Your staff seem very good.'

'They are magnificent. I wish I could tempt them back to Ithilien when the King returns.' And then his face dropped, thunderstruck. 'The King...' he said, and put his head in his hands. 

I had hoped to avoid this issue for a few days. Éowyn would arrive at Edoras before the King was due to leave for home. 

'This has not, I think,' he said in a muffled voice, 'been one of my greater diplomatic successes.' 

These could, perhaps, be thought strange terms for a man to describe being forsaken by a most beloved wife, but his sorrow was so evident that no-one could be left in doubt of his true feelings on the subject. And I was reminded again just how gentle a tap it would take. 

'I am sure that Aragorn will be more concerned for your well-being than any such matter,' I consoled him, not entirely certain on that score since, whilst I did not doubt that Éowyn would be scrupulous in speaking about the matter, I was not clear how rationally her brother the King might respond. But I was anxious not to have the day's work completely undone, and worried at how quickly he was falling apart.  

'When do you leave for Dol Amroth?' he said faintly. 

I smiled at him fondly. 'My dear nephew,' I said, ' Do you really believe that I shall not be here to aid you?' 

'I would not blame you,' he said frankly. 'I am unworthy of your support.'

I went over to the desk, took his head between my hands, as I had always done when his mood was so, and I lifted it so I might look at him steadily. 'Not if you keep on saying things like that,' I patted his face very softly. 'Come on, lad. Let's go and do something else.'

In truth, it was hard to think of what to do with him. The city itself was too busy for his mood, and many of the quieter places out of bounds. Here on the top level we were too close to his home. The gardens of the Houses of Healing, usually so restful, were of course quite inappropriate under these circumstances. I considered taking him riding, since he had sealed himself in an office for almost a year, and it would perhaps do him good to get out of the city and breathe some clear air, but I was not sure whether dragging him across the Pelennor was a good idea in his frame of mind. In the end, I resorted to the tactic I had used when he was a boy and in a state of high anxiety, and sat him in my garden with a large pile of books. He invariably became absorbed in time, and so he did this on this occasion. And after an hour or so I looked out on him and he was fast asleep. He had as yet only mentioned his wife in passing, and he had not spoken at all about his children. But it was a beginning and, I thought, perhaps not all my meddling in his life need be ill-fated. 


	13. Chapter XIII

A/N: It's funny, I was going to cut the line about it not being Faramir's greatest diplomatic success as a bit flippant (hence Imrahil's remark after it). Huh, shows you how much I know. You might like to know that over the weekend I scribbled down detailed notes of the whole of the rest of this story. So I know how it ends! Cackle! Trust me, I'm a sociologist. 

Very big thank yous to Isabeau, Kshar, and Joan, who may well recognize the odd bit here and there in this and the next chapter (which will be up later today). I hope you take my thieving as the flattery it's meant to be. 

Éowyn appears to have been listening to Leonard Cohen, and so have I while writing this one (and the next one, when it comes). 

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and reviewing. 

Altariel

***

XIII

'I will break every bone in his body.'

Such remarks as these my brother, pacing around behind us, had been casting into the conversation for the past ten minutes. I tried to ignore him and continued speaking to Lothíriel. 

'I am sorry I was so overwrought yester eve...' I said again. For I had arrived in great distress, pausing only briefly to greet my brother and the Lord Aragorn before allowing Lothíriel to sweep me and my children away to bed. 

'You had had a long journey; it is no surprise you were exhausted.'

'You have been very kind. I know this must be difficult for you - '

She waved a hand. 'Do not even think that! This is your home as ever it was - '

'If he sets one foot in Rohan...'

Lothíriel raised her eyes and shook her head, and then gave her full attention back to me. 'But, sister, you have said very little about what has happened - might I ask?' she said gently. 'Your letters have said naught that led me to expect this; indeed, you have spoken only of how well you and the children have been, and his successes in his work...'

And so I had, for it had seemed disloyal of me to write ill of my husband and, most of all, I had not wanted to draw in Lothíriel, dear to me though she was, for she was my husband's cousin, and it was, I deemed, unfair to make such a demand upon her. My brother, it seemed, was not troubled by such niceties. And while I loved him for his loyalty, it was proving rather a strain. 

' - _never trust a man that reads so much - '_

Lothíriel turned to him. 'I beg you, will you _please be quiet?'_

'Brother,' I said, and my voice was rising as I spoke, 'think of your wife. This is her cousin of whom you speak. And how must I feel, to be the cause of this strife, placing her in such a position? And if neither of these arguments sway you, then think of my children. Is it right for you to speak thus before them of their father? I swear, brother, that if you do not stop, I shall quit this place, and you will have made me and my children homeless for a second time.'

Lothíriel reached out and took his hand. 'Leave us for a little while,' she said gently, and he nodded and went, stopping only to press my hand and to place a kiss on the top of my head, which I received gratefully. 

Lothíriel looked at me with great compassion. 'Tell me what has passed between you,' she said. 

And so I gave her an account of the dreadful year we had had, of her father's return to the city and his advice to speak to my husband. And I spoke of our bitter row, my foolish fit of temper and attempt to strike him - and then his fury, the like of which I had not believed him capable; the shouting, the raging, and his sudden act of violence. 

Her face became more and more horrified. 'I can scarce believe it of him,' she murmured. 

'Aye, well, it happened,' I replied sharply. 

She took my hand. 'Your pardon, I did not mean to sound as if I doubted what you said. But... this is so unlike him. Always I have known him to be so very gentle, so kind.'

'He is those things. Or he was. And also he is cold, and cruel.' I felt tears welling up. 'His face, Lothíriel... it was as if a different man stood before me. I have never even heard him raise his voice before, and this was not simply raised - he was screaming!' The tears were coming down my face now, and I looked at Elboron, playing quietly at my feet, and Morwen, fast asleep beside me. 'Then he threw something, his ring I think, but when he raised his arm I thought he was about to strike me. And then the sound of glass breaking... I did not know for a moment what he had done - to punch at glass like that! And I could only think that the blow was meant for me... How could I stay, how I could keep my children there?' And I wept freely, as all the fear I had buried away during my journey came rushing to the surface. 

Lothíriel put her arms about me, and consoled me until the tears stopped. And at my request we spoke no more about it that day, for I was tired, and she told me instead the news of Edoras. I went to bed early, and I curled my son up close to me to sleep. 

The next morning the day was overcast, and we stayed indoors. My brother was more subdued, but I knew him well, and did not doubt that his opinion of my husband remained much the same. The day and I were both gloomy, and I did not much feel like speaking. My sister chattered for a while, and I did not mind listening, but my mood soon affected her and she too fell quiet. But after a while she did speak again, softly and thoughtfully.

'How troubling your tale,' she murmured, 'for he sounds much changed. More like his father.' She grimaced in memory. 

I shuddered, for although I had not met him, I had heard enough from my husband's uncle and cousins to know it was no particular loss to my life. 'Aye, that is what I had thought.'

'But even still, it is hard to believe of my cousin. For even if his nature has indeed changed so much, I would have thought his illness would make him loathe violence all the more.'

Ice coursed through my veins. I looked up at her. 'What did you say?'

She frowned at me. 'That he would loathe violence all the more - '

'Before that! _What illness?'_

She looked at me in horror. 'Éowyn, surely you know? His collapses... He cannot fight...' She stopped. I imagine she saw the look upon my face. 

I took both her hands. 'Lothíriel, you must tell me all that you know, all that he or your father or Éomer have said. For I truly do not know of what you speak.'

And so I heard from his cousin what my husband could not tell me; what he had suffered in Ithilien, and then later in Minas Tirith. And at last I understood why it was he had stayed behind, and why he no longer bore my gift to him. 

'He is war-fettered...' I murmured. I stood up and paced the room for a while, thinking hard, and it seemed as if all of our life together took on a different complexion, beginning with a cold winter's night when he came home unexpected from Ithilien. 'Well,' I said at length. 'Much now becomes clear to me.'

'He had not told you?' she said, aghast.

'He had not.' I breathed deeply. 'Who else knew about this?' 

'The King. The Queen. My father. Your brother,' she paused when she saw the look emerging on my face. 'My brothers...' she added a little warily.

'I see,' I said. 'And was there any thought that perhaps his wife should be informed?'

'We thought it would come from him; that it _had come from him - '_

'Expecting the Prince of Ithilien to speak to his wife is perhaps somewhat naïve on the part of all concerned,' I said very bitterly.

'I thought that you knew - ' she said with real distress. 

'My dearest sister, I do not hold you to blame.' I went to her and took her hand. 'I do not know who to blame, and although it is tempting to start with that poor, foolish man I married, nevertheless I think there are others to hold at fault for allowing this ridiculous charade to continue. My brother and I must have words. Never mind the words I intend to have with your father - and the King. It is lucky indeed for him he left this morning.'

In great turmoil, I left the children with my sister, and went to my chamber, for I needed some peace. As I thought, my anger with his uncle and with the King did abate - a little. For I saw that the Prince had explained to me as best he could and encouraged me to ask my husband why it was he did not go to war. The King, too, before going east, had hinted to me that there was something more behind my husband's decision to stay. And yet all of their remarks and clues had depended on one thing - that my husband would speak to me. 

And so I had then to wonder why it was that my husband had not felt free to tell. It was not hard to grasp, I thought rapidly with mounting remorse, and tears came to my eyes when I thought of our bitter quarrel the night before the armies went east, and all I had said about a man that would not go to war. And I had been unremitting after that, forever accusing him of being undutiful, of being a coward. It was almost too much to bear. But while it was easy to see why he had not spoken in recent months, I could not understand why he had not at the start. What could he have believed of me, to think that I would not have understood? 

For although he had not spoken much of it, I knew how his war had been. His uncle had told me of his brush with the shadow after he had escaped Ithilien, and of the slow retreat, conducted in the knowledge that his father wished him dead. I knew, none better, how the darkness would have slid its grip imperceptibly about his throat. And I could remember so clearly his face, when first we met, very grave and held very still, but yet able to show me pity in my own plight. 

And surely he knew that I had experienced directly some of what he had? One battle, he had said, but it was enough. Dernhelm seemed to me now like a phantom, a figure conjured up from the darkest night, but as she had fought, she had seen with my eyes those she loved killed, and so wept. And I knew, as he did too, that it was not only on the battlefield that despair took us, that it was enough to be at home amongst those that you loved, and see the darkness take your family, and with it your soul. 

And what of my whole life, brought up among men of war? When my brother and I came to live with my dear uncle the King, we were both well loved, but I in particular, for I was the only girl among men and boys, and they delighted in me, and spoiled me. I loved them fiercely in return, and admired them; tall men and strong, who rode and sang and laughed and wept. And they put me on horses and gave me a sword, not to jest with me, but because these were the things that made them free, and they wanted this for me too. I remembered one man, who as tall and as fair as the rest, who had helped me learn to ride. Others would speak in admiration of his deeds and his fearlessness, but I marked that he no longer rode forth with them, and this puzzled me greatly, and I thought long and hard about it, to no avail. Then one day, when I must have been no more than twelve, I had ridden out with my cousin, that I worshipped, and who spoiled me the most, and I asked him about this man, and why he did not ride, when all knew of his courage. 

And Théodred, still only young himself - although to me at the time he seemed a great age - fell silent for a moment, and his face went sad as he looked across the fields.

'Ah, Éowyn,' he said at last, and he sighed, 'sometimes even all of our singing cannot heal a heart.' 

And so now, at last, some of the changes in my husband made sense. I did weep then, for his war and what it had cost him, and for my cruelty - through ignorance, yes, but cruelty nonetheless. But yet I could not forget what his uncle had said to me, about how hurt and disappointment might alter my husband, and I thought of his transformation that night, and a voice whispered within me that he had needed neither sword nor knife to hurt me. 

That afternoon the sun shone and we took the children outside. My brother had been appalled to learn that my son had not yet sat upon a horse, and told me I had been living among barbarians. I protested for a while that Elboron was still too young, but Éomer insisted that if the boy was walking he should be riding. So I sat and watched their exploits - perhaps a little anxiously; and Lothíriel sat beside me, and despite her laughter I sensed a little sadness, for she had lost a child earlier in the year, their first. I stroked my daughter's dark hair and was very thankful for my two healthy children; and looking upon my son, I wished with all my heart for his life to be a safe and a happy one, and above all that he should never have to go to war, and suffer as his father had suffered. 


	14. Chapter XIV

XIV

After a week or so at my uncle's home, I judged that the time had come to return to my own house. He was not taken with the idea, and asked me to reconsider, at least until he left the city. But I knew I could not shelter behind him indefinitely, and he would soon be returning to the coast, and so I was adamant. 

As was to be expected, the house was very quiet inside. She had left behind many of her own and the children's possessions in her haste to depart, and these sat uneasily about the rooms. Going into her sitting room I saw that the cabinet had been discreetly mended, and suspected my uncle's involvement here and, although I was grateful to him, still I had it removed. I had never much cared for it, and even less now. On the desk in my study my ring was waiting for me accusingly, lurking to one side of the books I had abandoned more than a week ago. I hid it away at the back of a drawer. 

They were discouraging surroundings, and I felt better in the White Tower, where there was plenty to do in preparation for the King's imminent arrival. Whatever he might have to say to me about the state of our alliance with Rohan, he would, I was determined, have no other source of complaint. So I sat one morning putting some rather fretful final touches to the last report I needed to prepare before his arrival that afternoon. As I wrote, I heard someone enter and come to stand before my desk - it was about the time messages generally arrived, and there was usually something that required an immediate decision. 

'If you just give me one more moment,' I murmured, without looking up, my full concentration on the task at hand, 'Then I can promise you will have my complete and undivided attention...' 

There was a slight pause as I carried on scribbling; then, 'When you are ready, Faramir,' said the King.

This was not, perhaps, the start for our interview which I would have wished. I set down my pen, looked up at his impassive face, and got to my feet. 'My lord,' I said apologetically. 'Welcome home,' I added, a little lamely. 

He nodded in acknowledgement, and then gestured towards the door. 'Shall we go and talk about... how the year has passed in Gondor?' 

I grabbed the pile of documents I had made ready for his return, sliding the near finished one to the bottom, and followed him out of the door. We spent an hour or two talking through the papers, and he asked questions, checked facts, and mostly nodded or murmured in agreement. I felt a cautious hope rising in me that I might leave the room alive. 

At last, however, he sat back in his chair, folded his arms, and appraised me very gravely with his grey eyes. I clasped my hands together, and tried to keep looking back. He had always had more than a passing resemblance to my father, which had no doubt influenced my decision to delay telling him about my illness, but his sternness now made the likeness unmistakeable. It did not help my unease. 

'I believe,' he said eventually, 'that neither the King of Rohan nor I expected to return from securing our interests in the east to find our own ties in tatters.'

I closed my eyes very briefly, to get at least a moment's respite from his own unremitting gaze. 

'And I fear,' he continued, 'that while I do not make a habit of requesting my counsellors to account for their domestic arrangements, on this occasion I require  from you an explanation of what has occurred between you and the Lady of Emyn Arnen.'

I sat wondering where to begin. 

'Did you strike her, Faramir?'

I looked at him, startled. 'Indeed, no! Has she said that?' 

'I have not brought you in here so that I can carry tales, Lord Faramir,' he said, and now his tone was very grim. The similarity to my father was now overwhelming, and I could feel myself quaking under the weight of his displeasure, and strove to control myself. 

'Your pardon,' I said at length in a more measured tone. 'That was ill said of me.'

'Yes it was.'

I reined myself in further and attempted an explanation. 'We argued... she tried to strike me... I blocked her arm, and in so doing I cut her wrist with my ring. And then she left for Rohan.'

He sat looking at me with that stare that could pierce through stone. After a moment I could not look back at him. 

'I see.' He stretched in his chair. 'Your wife, for the record, was extremely circumspect. She spoke briefly to her brother and to me, and then has been in conference with his wife your cousin since her arrival. And that was the case when I departed.'

I did not dare answer. 

'We shall not speak of this matter again.' He sat up in his chair, put his hands out flat on the papers I had given to him, and looked down at them. I sat and waited. Then he gazed at me once more. 

'I hear from the Queen that you were ill at the start of the year.'

I had put a great deal of effort into avoiding the Queen at that time, and I had not known she knew, although given how thin I went, it should not have come as a surprise to me that she had. 

'Yes, a little.'

'Rather more than a little, from what she tells me.'

I was not sure where this could be leading, so I kept quiet and looked at the floor with no small amount of trepidation. 

'Which makes your execution of your office across those months all the more impressive, I think,' he concluded. And then he stood up, and so did I. 'I knew that I could rely on you, Faramir,' he said, and there was warmth now in his voice. 'Thank you for all that you have done in my absence.' 

I bowed; and, as I made my way out, feeling extremely relieved still to be standing and walking, he spoke again and I turned to face him, and I thought that I caught a note of regret in his voice. 

'I did not intend for your stewardship to cost you your marriage,' he said, drumming the desk with the fingers of one hand. 

I rubbed my face. 'I do not believe that that was what happened,' I said at last softly.  

'Well,' he said, as if not entirely agreeing; then he continued, 'Your pardon. I said that we would not speak of this again.' Then he gave me a wry smile. 'The Queen asks that you join us for dinner tomorrow evening.'

I dropped my head to smile in my turn, since it appeared people still did not want me out of their sight. My uncle seemed to show up at my home at some point each evening. I did not much mind. 

'Thank you,' I said. 'That would be very welcome.'

And indeed it was. My uncle joined us, and we ate extremely well, and the Queen was as ever very dry and very witty, and the King kept refilling my glass, and as the evening wore on I felt very relaxed, more than I had done in months. 

In time, however, the Queen addressed me, as I had been expecting.

'Now that we have bribed you with a large quantity of very superior wine, Faramir, perhaps you might be persuaded to speak to me a little about your wife?' And she looked at me with kindness. 

I heaved a deep sigh. 'I rather thought we might come to this subject at some point in the evening. Perhaps if I offered here one of my justly celebrated summaries we could consider it closed and move onto more pleasant matters?' I started to count off on my fingers. 'Point the first: I am an idiot. Point the second: I am getting exactly what I deserve. Point the third...' I stopped and frowned. 'No, I believe that covers everything,' I said, and laughed a little, and my uncle laughed and the King smiled. 

But the Queen was not satisfied. 'My lord Faramir,' she began, shaking her head, but I very politely cut her short.

'My lady, I have found in the past week or so that if I dwell at length on this matter, I am inexplicably reduced to tears. You would not have me so before the King, surely?'

She raised her hands in defeat. 'What then would you rather talk about?'

I swung back in my chair, and took a deep breath. 'I would like to hear more about the east. I never got there. What is it like?' 

So my uncle and the King spoke more about what they had seen; but when I began obligingly correcting their use of the local dialect, they refused to continue on account of the fact that I manifestly knew already more about the land and the people than they, despite their year's first-hand experience, could possibly tell me. I conceded their point, but felt bound to say that it seemed wasteful to spend so much time away and come home with so little to show for it. It was customary at such a point in our squabbling for someone to remark about my lack of skill in Rohirric, but this time it went unsaid; and I was glad, for I had begun to wonder whether I should have seen from the outset the extent to which I misunderstood my wife. 

I could only count myself very fortunate in the people I had around me. And at the end of the evening, when my uncle and I disappeared off half-cut into the night, he steered me down to his own home, guessing correctly that after such good company, I could not quite bring myself to listen instead to the sighs and silences of the Steward's house. But I returned there the following day, and a week or so later, my uncle went home to Dol Amroth. 

As the year turned from autumn to winter, I would stand in the bay window of my study and I watched as the trees in my garden faded from golden brown to emptiness. And I became very sad. 

The house did not help my mood. For it seemed that everywhere I turned, I was beset by memories, and none brought me solace. Walking along the landing on the second floor, past what had been the children's nursery, brought home only that I had lost them. A recollection of Boromir and me tussling in the main hallway, happy that father was out, recalled only to me that my brother too had gone. And everywhere, her touch had graced the house, brought life to it, even though she had been unhappy here; even though I had made her unhappy here. 

And, sometimes, I would find myself unsettled by a bad memory, almost like the thoughts of battle I would experience; much less vivid, but overpowering nonetheless. I would perhaps reach to open a door and, on touching the handle, I would remember how it had felt against the side of my head, and hear again the sound of my father's voice. And this would jolt me, and leave me shaky and unsteady. 

I understood now why I had chosen the room I had as my study, for it had been my mother's sitting room, and he had hardly ever entered there when she was alive, and he had closed the door on it when she had died. There was little there to unnerve me. And so, when I was in the house, I retreated into that room, since although the year was ending, it still caught what pale sunlight there was, and I had filled it with things that I liked, and it was very peaceful. But late one evening, I stood up from my chair to go to bed, and I thought suddenly of Éowyn and of my children, and how much I loved them and missed them, and that they were gone, and I was overcome with grief even in this haven. I leant my forehead against the wall, and I wept.

It took a long time to sleep that night, but the next morning was a new day, and I sat up and leaned on the window sill and, looking out into the garden, I saw that spring was coming. And I tried to think of what I might do, for I was weary of being unhappy and I longed for some peace of mind.  

It was plain to me that Éowyn was gone for good, and I did not expect or deserve otherwise. It was also plain that any attempt to communicate was her privilege and the first move would need to come from her. I could not force myself upon her. This recognition was very painful, in particular when I thought of how much my children would be changing and that I was not there to see them, but I had brought myself to this pass, and now must face the consequences. I could not change it, only bear it. 

The house was a trial for me. I had no doubt that my uncle would have let me move into his home had I asked, but I was determined to resolve this matter. I could not, I thought, spend my whole life being jarred by the memories that lay within the place. I had lived here alone for some time directly after becoming Steward and, again, on my return from Edoras and before my marriage, and it had not caused me any anxiety; indeed, I had enjoyed being master of my own home, and ordering it in the way that I wanted. I perceived that my trouble was less with the house itself than with my recent admission of what had happened to me here as a boy. I considered returning to Ithilien, but how could I bear Emyn Arnen without her? So I stayed, and I set my mind to mastering this and, once again, I gave instructions to shift furniture and to paint walls. 

I continued dealing with much of the day-to-day business of the kingdom. I do not think this was much of a loss to the King and it certainly filled my time. And I enjoyed it and, thanks to my staff, I was good at it, and it gave me a sense of achievement which I thought was probably foolish to deny myself if I wished to regain some contentment. For above all I tried to keep at the forefront of my mind that should I ever see my children again, I would want them to meet a father that was well and close to happy, and thus able to love them and care for them, and not a man such as my own father that had become stern and embittered. 

One morning in the middle of February, I had opened the windows wide in my study, for the air was fresh and clean; and I sat in my chair with my feet on the desk, reading again about Beren and Lúthien, for tales of love that conquered even death were beautiful, even if I no longer believed them. 

Then I heard the door open and someone was brought in. Looking up, I saw it was the Queen. 

'Reading again, Lord Faramir?' she asked. 'Why not walk with me for a while instead? It is some time now since I have looked upon your lovely gardens.'

And so we walked together for a little while, and we fell to talking about Éowyn, and she asked me why I had not yet been to see her. 

'In truth, my lady - I have no great desire to come face to face with the King of Rohan. I believe I might not survive the encounter.'

She looked at me sternly. 

'She has not sent for me,' I said, perhaps a little defensively, and I was confused, for surely after all I had done to her, it could only be for Éowyn's to decide whether I should be permitted near her?

'And have you thought that Éowyn might instead prefer a gesture from you?' 

I had to admit that I had not. 

'Surely you miss her greatly?'

My heart wrenched in my chest. 'I miss her... painfully. But, we seem to have done naught but tear at each other. Too literally, in my case,' I added very sadly, and then I gave her a rueful smile. 'I have come to the conclusion that I know very little about women!'

She threw back her head and laughed. 'All that poetry, and so little to show for it! It is a terrible shame! I think you may find,' she said more seriously, 'That we are not such mysterious creatures as you imagine.' She pressed my arm. 'Éowyn loves, and Éowyn grieves, as much as you do. This is not, surely, so difficult to understand?' She stopped walking and turned to face me, and took hold of both my hands. 'Sometimes, I believe, you think too much, Lord Faramir.'

'This has been said to me before.'

'Then stop thinking. Go to Rohan, and speak to your wife. And listen to her.'

After she had departed, I returned to my study, and put aside my books, and I wrote to my wife. These days I spent much of my time writing, rewriting, and perfecting documents, but I have never composed anything so hard in my life. Ten pages became five, and five became two, and, at length, I was left with only a few lines, that hoped she and our children were in the best of health, and that she would allow me to come to Edoras to offer my apology in person. 

Late one afternoon at the end of February, I came out from the meeting of the council and stood on the steps of the White Tower, and I looked down the court towards the fountain and the Tree, and on past the Rammas to the river, a silver line on the horizon, Ithilien beyond. The sky was pale blue and cloudless, and the air fresh, and I breathed in the scent of the new flowers, and then I caught a sudden sharp tang in the air, and turned. The King stood beside me, lighting his pipe. 

He nodded back into the Tower. 'Was that a flash of humour I detected in there?'

I returned his smile. 'Each week, my lord,' I said, by way of explanation, 'I receive a letter from my uncle. And each week it begins in the same way - with an enquiry after my health, and then an order to stop brooding. My uncle's advice has never yet turned out to be bad - whether or not I have been wise enough to pay it any attention.'

He laughed very quietly. 

I sighed, drawing in the soft scent of the flowers, laced now with the pungency of the smoke. 'I leave for Rohan at the end of the week,' I said, for I had received a response from my wife that morning, a letter even shorter than the one I had sent, which simply gave me permission for a visit. 

'At last,' he muttered. 

I turned to look at him sharply, and he raised an eyebrow. 'And do you journey there in hope?' he continued. 

'I hope to see that she and my children are well. Nothing more.'

'And what do you hope from your brother-in-law?'

I looked towards Ithilien again unhappily. 'You know him better than I,' I said. 'And saw him when she arrived. Have you any advice for me?'

He chewed thoughtfully on his pipe for a few moments.

'Duck,' he said. 


	15. Chapter XV

XV

He arrived in the early evening, and I went out to greet him, and looked him over as he saw to his horse. It had been a warm day for riding; he had rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt at the top, and his face was a little flushed. He was wearing black, which I had never thought suited him best, since it tended to heighten the shadows that would fall under his eyes when he was worried or fatigued. Still, he seemed at first glance as boyish as ever, and his hair was a little longer than I remembered but, when I looked a little closer, I thought I caught some grey. I could not recall now whether that was new or if had been there before, and I wondered to myself when exactly it was that I had stopped looking at this man, my husband, and the father of my children. I saw then too that there was something in the way he was carrying himself, a slight weariness beyond that which would be caused by the exertion of his journey, and which made him seem a little older. At my approach he looked up and his eyes fell on me, and I saw it again, that enforced maturity that had always been in his look, most evident when I had first met him, and which had departed somewhat when first we were married. It seemed to me now that it had settled even more deeply upon him. Had I done this to him, or had he done it to himself? Perhaps, it came to me all of a sudden, we had done it together. 

We stood and looked at each other in complete silence. Then I gave him a small smile and that seemed to encourage him. After a few moments, he spoke, hesitantly. 

'It is so very lovely to see you again. Are you well? You look very well...' His voice faded.

'I am well, thank you. How was your journey?'

He gave a tired smile. 'Somewhat longer than I am used to these days, I admit. I should ride more.'

'Well, I would always agree with that sentiment!' I replied. 'Will you come inside?'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Is your brother within?' 

'My brother seems to have disappeared. But, fear not! Between us, your cousin and I have the King well under control.'

'Then, by your leave and under your protection, my lady, I shall come inside.'

The Queen of Rohan was waiting to greet him, and she embraced him warmly. 'Hello Thiri,' he said, returning the hug and kissing her cheek. 'How are you?'

'I am well, cousin,' she said. 'How are you, you idiot?' She pressed his hand. 

'Becoming adept at handling insults,' he said with a wry smile. 

She took his arm. 'You look tired,' she said. 'I think you should rest a while and join us later for dinner.' And she steered him inside and away from me. I went to see the children to bed, and did not see him again until we ate. 

It was a subdued meal, and my brother was still nowhere to be seen. My husband still looked very tired, although he asked question after question as I spoke about the children and smiled as I talked, and laughed softly to hear that Elboron had been riding, judging it a fine idea. Lothíriel spoke about Edoras and he listened closely, his eyes moving with great warmth about her face, quietly satisfying himself that she was happy. I asked him in turn a little about Minas Tirith, and he gave me news of the King and Queen and their daughters, to whom he was plainly very attached, told me a few dry stories about court which made me snort, and spoke a little about his work. He said nothing about what else he had been doing with himself during all this time. Reading, I imagined. Someone should have put him on a horse. 

When we had finished, Lothíriel asked if he wanted to go to bed, but he bit at his lip for a moment before looking at me to answer. 

'With your permission, my lady, I would very much like to look in on the children. I imagine they will be sleeping by now, and I shall of course wait until the morning if you prefer...'

'Of course,' I said. Lothíriel shot me a quick, questioning look, to see if I wished her to accompany us, but I shook my head. I did not feel afraid in his company; not at the moment, at least. 

When we reached the children's room, he went in and looked at each of them in turn for a long while, planting a kiss on top of each dark head, then came and stood by me. We leaned away from each other on opposite sides of the door. 

'They have changed a great deal,' he murmured. 

'You took a long time to come and see us,' I gently admonished him. 

He looked at me awkwardly. 'I did not know whether you would want to see me again.'

'You would need to ask to find that out!'

'It seems that all my choices go awry...' He dropped his head. 'Éowyn, I cannot say enough how very sorry I am...' He looked again at me, and the shadows lay heavy about his eyes now. 

'I think that we should speak no more tonight,' I said softly. 'You are very tired, and I do at least remember that you prefer to sleep on matters. We can talk in full tomorrow.'

He nodded in acquiescence, and followed me in silence as I led him back towards his chamber. I recalled now that this was the room he had used when he had stayed for those months after our betrothal. I wished I had remembered sooner, and asked Lothíriel to put him elsewhere. 

'Let us meet again in the morning,' I said, as he reached to open the door. 'You will want to see the children as soon as you can, no doubt.' And we looked at each other for a moment, and then bid each other an uncertain goodnight. 

I lay awake thinking for some time when I went back to my own chamber. I had watched him closely throughout the evening, and it seemed there was nothing there of the bitter man he had been before I left. This man was more like to the one I had first met and known in the Houses of Healing - reserved, preoccupied, with an air of permanent sadness. Yet something about him had changed even from that man - as if he had in some way been very badly bruised, or as if something small but vital had been broken. And I wondered what this might mean for the man he was now. Too much hurt and disappointment, his uncle had warned me against; and there had certainly been each aplenty, and for both of us, not just Faramir. What kind of man might this have left behind?

He was staying for a week, so I would have some time to judge. And there was plenty we had to discuss, his concealment of his illness from me not least. For these were the matters that troubled me most, his deception - when he knew how I loathed any kind of duplicity - and also that sudden transformation that had overcome him. For all his weary quietness this evening, for all he seemed very like that grave and gentle man I had first met, still I could too easily recall that rage, his arm lifting as if to strike, and the shattering sound of glass breaking beneath his blow. 

I sighed, and turned over to sleep. For once, I thought, I would follow his example, and see what the new day brought. 

When I went to fetch him in the morning to take him to the children, I saw my brother walking ahead of me, heading for the place where my husband was waiting for me. I quickened my step, but hung back in the doorway, preparing to intervene only if necessary. They could not put off this meeting forever. 

My brother walked slowly towards the chair in which my husband was sitting and, at his approach, my husband set down the book he was reading and rose to meet him, clasping his hands behind his back, his face set and his eyes grey as steel. They were much the same height, but my husband was leaner and tauter; my brother broader and effortless in the way he moved. And I watched anxiously for, despite all his promises, I knew that my brother was still very angry and, looking at my husband, and despite his condition, I remembered what I had thought when first I had beheld him, that there were few, if any, in the Mark that could better him. 

_Please, I beg you both, restrain your natural impulses. Faramir, do not speak! And Éomer - please, do not hit him! _

With studied casualness, my brother set his hand upon the hilt of his sword and, without even looking at him, said to my husband, 'Were it not that my sister and my wife have begged me not to, and were it not for the great love I have for your king, I would thrash you to within an inch of your life.' Then he did turn to look at him, and my husband's face was pale and still, but he was standing very straight and looking back sternly, his eyes narrowed. 

'Keep away from me while you remain here,' my brother said, and then he turned and quit the room. I stepped out of his way. 

My husband let out a breath and dropped his head, the tension draining from his body.

I went in. He looked up quickly, and a little anxiously, perhaps thinking my brother had changed his mind, and a flicker of relief passed over his face when he saw it was me. He took up his book again, and folded his arms about it.

'I am sorry if that was unpleasant,' I said.

'In truth, my lady, it went better than I had feared. I thought he would strike me, at the least.'

'For all he said, I do not think he would strike a man who would not be happy to return the blow.'

'I would not have responded in kind,' he agreed. 

I fell to thinking for a moment. 'You would not block a blow from my brother, and yet you would block one from me?' I asked. 

His face crumpled. It was as if I had indeed physically struck him. His head fell again and he seemed almost winded. 'Oh, my beloved lady...' he whispered. 

I admit I was somewhat taken aback by the extreme nature of his reaction, and I sought to lessen his distress. 'Perhaps I should be flattered,' I said, with an attempt at levity, 'it is clear you fear more from my blows than his!' 

He was not consoled; indeed, he seemed very close to tears. He had put one hand to his face as if to shield himself, and with the other arm he was pressing the book against himself even more tightly. 

'Let us not speak more of this,' I said hurriedly. 'Come, the children are waiting to see you. You would not wish to appear upset before them, I am sure.'

He fell in at my side as I walked out of the room, and I listened as he brought his breathing under control. By the time we reached the garden he was in hand, and could face the children with equanimity. 

He was soon close to tears again to see them. It was very poignant, since it was plain that Elboron did not remember him and Morwen had not had the chance to get to know him. And I am not so false as to deny that I had a small flash of pride, for in the past I had often felt that all my children's qualities were because of the care lavished upon them by their father rather than my own attentions. But now I could see that despite his absence they had thrived, and that this could only be because of me. 

Morwen smiled at him and he was immediately enslaved, supporting what I had already begun to suspect, that our daughter had inherited something of the charm of both her uncles. Elboron was very shy with him, but he was patient, and by the end of the morning, the makings of a cautious alliance was in place. And their father became a little happier, and I could see he had lost none of his tenderness and affection towards them.  

That afternoon we walked together in the gardens, as we had often done during his first stay here, but this time inches apart and not touching. I did not need to ask whether he could remember the paths we were walking; his face would, now and again, flicker with a sudden recognition, and he did not need me to direct him. At length we came to a bench, where we sat, one at either end. There was room for another between us. He sat with his arms folded for a while, then sighed, leaned forward, and turned to look at me. I waited for him to speak. 

'I am sorry,' he said at length.

I nodded. 'Your apology is accepted.'

He sighed again, a little unsteadily, and with evident relief. 

'Which resolves very little,' I added, and he nodded in turn. Then he rubbed his hands against his eyes, opened his mouth as if to speak, and screwed up his face, clearly struggling. Finally he spoke. 'There is something I have to tell you, something which may explain much, although it excuses nothing.' He stopped, and again his face seemed at war with itself.

'If this is about the reason why you no longer carry a sword,' I said softly, 'I already know.'

He looked up at me, quite stunned. And then a great confusion of emotions passed across his face: fear, guilt, panic, shame. All in very quick procession, but shame at the end. 

'_How?' he whispered. _

'Your cousin told me.'

He looked blank for a moment. 'Thiri?' he said in disbelief, jerking a thumb in the direction of the hall. 'How does she...?' His eyes narrowed. '_Uncle...' he muttered under his breath and I thought there was a slightly threatening note to it. _

'In fact, no. She heard from my brother. Who did indeed hear from your uncle, and from the King.'

His jaw dropped, and I could see that he was with increasing horror scrolling through the list of connections that was our family. He put his hand to his brow.

'Although your uncle, it seems, has also told his sons. Indeed, the entire family seems to know.'

'Not by my leave,' he said a little hotly. It was, I thought, somewhat naïve of him not to have considered that his family would discuss amongst themselves the matter of his health; although, knowing my husband, it would most likely not have crossed his mind that the topic would be of interest to them. Deceit came to him about as naturally as self-importance. 

'The entire family, that is, with one notable exception,' I added. 

'This was not how I meant for you to hear.'

'How then _did you mean for me to hear?' I asked. _

'I do not know. I do not know what I meant. I have no idea what I was thinking.'

'Why did you not tell me?'

He dropped his head into his hands. 'I feared you would despise me more than you already did.'

'Not later. At first. Why did you not tell me at first?'

'It was not... it was never my intention to deceive you,' he said, and I listened closely. He had, at least, grasped that this was my main complaint; it seemed not all of his perceptiveness had abandoned him. 'You were ill, and then the moment was never right, and then I came to believe that if I told you I would lose you... Above all, I did not want to lose you...' He laughed a little bitterly into his hands. 'That strategy was not a great success, was it?' He made an effort to control himself. 'How angry are you with me?' he said, looking up at last, his face flushed and upset. 

'I was very angry, at first. And then I began to wonder what it was I had done to make you believe that you were not safe to tell me this terrible distress you were suffering. And when I thought upon some of the things I had said to you, my remorse was very great.'

'They were no more than I deserved,' he said. 

'That is untrue. I said things to you that I know now were cruel.' 

He shook his head. 'Whatever you said was in ignorance. An ignorance in which I kept you. And yet everything I said to you I said in the full knowledge of how it would wound. That, my lady, is unforgivable.'

'My intention was also to wound, to my great shame.' I sighed. 'We are neither of us blameless here. And to compete for the position of more blameworthy is, I think, not a helpful pursuit for either of us.'

He fell into a thoughtful silence. 

'Tell me more about your condition,' I said, at last. 

He stood up and paced a little in front of me, eventually coming to rest with his back against a tree directly opposite me, his arms folded before him, looking like a man preparing to confess a crime and receive judgement. 'What do you want to know?' 

_All of it, you idiot, I thought, but restrained myself. 'Tell me... what happens.'_

He took a breath, as if summoning up his strength, and then began. 'I go back to the retreat,' he said simply. 'It is as if I am there again. The noise and... the panic. It affects my judgement. It happened first when I went out on patrol in Ithilien, that time I came back early...' He looked up, and I nodded to show which occasion he meant. 'Under different circumstances I could have killed all those men...' He shook his head.

'It must be terrifying,' I murmured, thinking of how it would be again and again to see the death of the king and hear the shrieking of the monster. 

He did not answer, but his head dropped and, although he was trying to hide it, I saw the shadow of fear pass across it. 

'And does this happen very often?' I prompted quietly.

'Not now, no. I know what causes it.'

'Which is? It is not simply combat, is it?' 

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows; surprised, perhaps, that I had guessed. 'No, no, it is not,' he murmured. He cleared his throat and then spoke more firmly. 'Tiredness. Worry. Too much noise or strain.'

'This would explain your desire to avoid our quarrelling.'

'As I said before, it explains but does not excuse much.'

I let that pass. 'What happened at Poros?' I asked. 

He gave a rather wry smile. 'Yes, I can imagine that was something of a puzzle. Not one of my wiser decisions, as my uncle would say. I thought I was getting better. I thought by going there I could restore your confidence in me - '

That truth hurt like a whip, but I knew he had not intended it so and covered my reaction quickly. 

' - And I was very wrong. By any normal standards, nothing happened at Poros. I had a look at the camp, and I had a look at the site of a battle. And I broke down.' He rubbed at his head. 'So it was at Poros that I came to understand at last that I would never fight again. And I thought that meant I would lose you.' He paused. 'Which I did,' he added softly. 'If not for the reasons I thought I would.'

After a moment he pushed himself away from the tree and came and sat back down, a little nearer to me. 

'And your sword?' I asked. 

He put out his right hand and imitated it shaking for a moment. 'That happens when I reach to touch it.' He gave a brittle laugh. 'It is really rather strange. I can show if you like.'

'I do not think there is any need.'

He nodded. 'So with all this in combination, I am afraid that I make a very poor soldier.' He linked the fingers of his hands together and stretched his arms out before him, almost as if to dismiss the person he had once been. 

'But you are an exceptional steward,' I said. 

He dropped his hands into his lap and turned to look at me, the brittleness softening slightly. 'Yes,' he said, with a quiet laugh. 'With so much practice, I seem to have become quite competent at that.' 

We sat for a moment in silence and then, very slowly and hesitantly, he reached his hand out to touch mine. And with a purely instinctive reaction, and one I would have suppressed if I had known it would happen, I flinched away from him. 

His hand shot back and then up to his face. After a moment he stood up and walked a little distance from me, his back to me, both hands to his face now. He stood like that for a few minutes, and I began to become concerned. 

'Faramir..?' I said at length. 

I watched him anxiously, and then he took a deep breath, and his shoulders slackened. Then he folded his arms, turned to face me and, remarkably, smiled at me. His eyes were warm, if a little rueful. It was as if in those few moments he had come to a decision or, at least, to some sort of acceptance. And I was again very much reminded of how he had been when we first met, when his attachment to me had been so apparent, and not returned. 

'I am sorry - ' I began. 

He shook his head. 'No, it is I who should apologize. It was most unfair of me to make such a demand on you. I understand your position entirely.' His smile tightened a little. 'Please, if I might be permitted to make a request of you, I would rather we did not dwell on this. My time here is so short. I would much rather simply enjoy your company and that of our children, than trying to mend something I have irreversibly broken.' He dropped his head and then looked at me, and it seemed he was ashamed. 'And I fear if we speak too much and too intensely, I might make myself ill with the strain,' he admitted. 

And so we did not speak so frankly again, but spent the rest of his stay as he had asked. Most of the time, we enjoyed being with our children. I had offered to leave him alone with them but he raised an eyebrow at me and said that he would prefer me to stay. And we talked as friends or, perhaps, as those who were becoming friends would talk. I learnt more about his illness, about his headaches and the stress he had put himself under when the armies went east, He talked much about a single argument we had had that, amongst the many, it took me a little while to place, but which I finally recalled as the occasion shortly after which he had become cold the first time. Reading between the lines, I perceived that, although he did not say it in so many words, he was trying to tell me that he had come very close to complete despair. 

In turn, I told him more about motherhood, about my fears and troubles. And I said how I had felt that his insistence on being alone with the children had been a judgement of me, that he had seemed not to trust me with them, or felt he was better equipped to care for them. He shook his head sadly. 'I would not have hurt you like that if I had known,' he murmured. 'I was simply desperate to be close to them. There was nothing else left to me...' It was very strange, I thought, how different were our perceptions of the same events. 

And so the week passed and, as I watched him, it seemed to me that he had, even in this short time, become a little happier, as if much was now clearer to him, and he could see a path ahead. And throughout all this time he maintained a tactful and scrupulous distance, and we did not touch once. 

On the morning of his departure, he was very sad again as he said goodbye to the children. He embraced his cousin and she fussed about him, and we ourselves said farewell with a dry formality. And, as he prepared to ride off, I said, almost on impulse, 'Perhaps, with your leave, the children might come to Gondor soon?' 

He looked down at me, a sad and gentle smile passing across his face. 'Do you really need to ask me that?'

'I suppose not,' I smiled. 

'Please make it very soon,' he said quietly, and I determined that I would, and nodded. 

'Thank you,' he said, then set off. I watched him for a little while and, at length, he turned and raised his arm in farewell. 


	16. Chapter XVI

A/N: This was written a couple of days ago, but the cursed site wouldn't let me post it! (Sigh.) Probably fiddled with it a bit too much as a result. Never mind, it's here now. 

***

XVI

I was whistling as I rode onto the Pelennor, and my spirits rose further to see my city ahead, the tower straight and tall and the banner of the Kings fluttering in the breeze. It was a crisp day in March, my children were perfect, my wife was speaking to me, and I had not been beaten bloody by the King of Rohan. All in all, I thought that I could judge my trip a success. As I came through the city gates and made my way slowly up the levels, I felt tired but well, better than I had done in a long time, and I resolved to take to heart the sternly delivered advice of both Éowyn and Lothíriel to ride more and read less. 

And I was glad to come to the upper level and see my home again. The spring sun lit all the rooms, and my study was as welcoming as ever. I sat back in my chair with a sigh of relief, began sorting through the stack of papers that had accumulated even in this short time away, and thought of my wife. 

I had, from the first moment I saw her, thought that she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. But she had been touched by a frost, and it had grieved me that all my efforts to dispel that cold seemed fruitless. I thought that the chill might take her completely before ever she had a chance to flower fully, and then, against all my expectations, she had warmed to me and she had blossomed. But I knew in my heart that whatever change I had wrought upon her - and I knew not how I had done it - it was as nothing to the changes she had brought to me. How strange and wonderful it was, for the first time in my life, to have beside me someone to whom I could give my love and know that it was welcomed purely on account of it being from me. For Boromir was loved by all, our father not least, and Denethor had no use for my affection.  

Solitude, I think, becomes a habit of the heart and of feeling; its sudden departure is bewildering, almost a shock. For this was the only way that I could explain my actions and my foolishness; that I had become so used to unhappiness that happiness had frightened me, and I had fled from it. She was, she always would be, the great love of my life, and I was the man that had let her and bliss slip through my fingers. 

For I did not doubt that she was lost to me. Throughout our week together I had watched her closely - how could I not? She was so lovely - and it seemed to me that even in the few months since I had last seen her, she had changed and grown. I had not thought it possible to improve upon perfection, but my incomparable wife had contrived this. She had acquired a new grace and a new serenity, as if all the hurts and disappointments of our life together had become only a source of renewal. While I had collapsed, she had been transformed, and I knew that this had naught to do with me, but came from her own self, from her tenacity and her strength. And as a result I loved and admired her more than I had ever done - which I would also not have believed possible - but I was resigned to the knowledge that I had brought her only sorrow, and that my attentions were not wanted and were indeed no longer necessary. 

I thought then of the vows we had exchanged on our wedding day, and how I had said that I would love and honour her, and had sworn to her my constancy. And it came to me that I had been false, for while I had indeed always loved her and always would, I had not honoured her as she so deserved, and my constancy too was doubtful, for I had withdrawn from her and kept from her a part of my soul. So I sat for a while in thought with my hands flat on the desk before me, and then I took off my wedding rings, and I put them carefully in my desk drawer, and my hands were now bare. And I wished her, with all my heart, all the health and happiness in her new life that I had so singularly failed to bring her in our life together. 

That evening I dined with the King and Queen. I spent a little time with their daughters, and missed my own children a great deal as a result, but I thought gratefully and longingly of Éowyn's promise to send them to me soon. The Queen quizzed me thoroughly over dinner about my trip and, although I saw her eyes drift to my right hand, she did not make any comment. The King laughed out loud to hear that Éowyn had already discovered the news of my illness. And I had other news for them, since I had determined that when my children did come to Gondor, I would return to Emyn Arnen for the duration of their stay for, I said, it was a more pleasant place for children. I did not say, although this was uppermost in my thoughts, that, although they had indeed lived in the Steward's house, I could not, having so recently confronted this matter again, yet bear to have my own children back there, where I had myself been such an unhappy child. And I knew also that I could not put off forever returning to my home, even when Emyn Arnen and Ithilien, in my mind, were the symbol of that short time that Éowyn and I had been happy.  

As I was leaving, I spoke to them sternly. 'I have been appalled to learn the extent to which people have been gossiping about me,' I said, glaring at each of them in turn. I was most amused to see the King look down rather shamefacedly, the first time, I think, that he had not fully held my gaze. But the Queen looked straight back at me, then put her hand to my face and pressed my cheek.

'Obstinate man,' she murmured, and I smiled at her. 'We have all been very worried about you. It is good to see you at last with some measure of contentment.'

A letter from Éowyn arrived very soon, and she promised that the children would come to Gondor at the end of April, since, although she herself would not come, her brother and my cousin intended to journey to Dol Amroth, and would stop in Minas Tirith to mark the anniversary of the coronation. It was tempting to make the move back to Ithilien at once and to avoid this event entirely since, if Éomer was coming to the city, there was something to be said for putting the Anduin between us. But I could hardly miss the occasion. I consoled myself with the thought that it would be for only part of one day, and that surely we could behave ourselves for so short a time, and in public. I certainly had no desire to take our quarrel any further than it had gone already and could only hope that one day he would forgive me the pain I had caused his sister. 

There was another reason that I did not want my children at the Steward's house, and this was because I had determined, on my return, to alter much of the inside of the building. Beginning with the ground floor, and leaving only my study intact, I intended completely to change how the house looked, removing walls if necessary. From the ground floor I would move up to the first floor, and then up to the second floor, until I was content. It was only just within my means, after all the work I had had done to the house in Emyn Arnen, but I decided that there was no price on peace of mind and I admit that a small part of me enjoyed spending my father's money when he had always been so careful. But most of all it was a gift to my children, a house in which they could be safe, and which I could leave to them with, I hoped, only happy memories. So the place became very busy and noisy, and it was well into April before I realized that all this disturbance had had no ill effect on my health. I believed this to be a positive sign for, although I had now completely accepted my condition and how it constrained what life I could lead, it was, I thought, an indication of an improved state of mind that I could live contentedly in the midst of such chaos and a mark too, I judged, of how these changes would indeed help secure that state of mind. 

My uncle, on learning of my plans, flew into a small fit of paternal panic. His weekly letters to me became little packets, in which he wrote reams of detailed advice to ensure that I would not be swindled - perhaps forgetting that much of the restoration of Minas Tirith, firstly after the siege and now the large number of works that were being carried out, were done under my stewardship. I had rebuilt a city; I was fairly sure I could rebuild a house. But in my mind I could hear his voice fretting, and I knew he was saying to all about him, _'The boy may be clever, but he lacks common sense.' I resolved to confirm with my cousins, next time I saw them, that my uncle had indeed said this to them at some point. But it was very good to know someone was taking an interest, so I persuaded myself to forgive my uncle his interference and, indeed, to excuse my whole family their dreadful discourtesy in worrying about me when I was ill. _

Lothíriel, on arriving at my home with my children, greeted me as affectionately as ever, although she looked with some dismay at what remained of my hallway. 

'My father _is going to be cross,' she said._

'Your father is not paying for it,' I murmured and kissed her cheek. 

She stepped back and looked me over, then held my right hand up with a quick questioning look before shaking her head, sighing, and then starting to complain about my son's behaviour on the journey. I raised an eyebrow at my son, and he raised one back, as if to remind me that his misconduct was naught compared to that of his disreputable and absent father. I was pleased he remembered me. My daughter smiled at me, although I gathered she would smile at anyone. I restrained myself from asking any questions about Éowyn, since I could not continue intruding in her affairs, but Lothíriel took pity and said just a little, enough for me to learn that she thrived, and I was very glad to hear it. 

I did not much look forward to mixing with the great and the good of the realm at the best of times, not without Éowyn there so that we could spend a happy hour or two afterwards while she mocked all and sundry and I laughed. The presence of the King of Rohan did not make this the best of times, and Lothíriel had latched on to me. Her husband met my eye very briefly, and nodded almost imperceptibly before turning back to speak to the King. That was sufficient for me, although it was uncomfortable to be so close to a man who so plainly despised me. It was not long, however, before I was called to attend to some business, and I disappeared into the White Tower with relief. But I could not stay inside indefinitely. Leaving my office reluctantly, I stood for a moment just inside and looked out without enthusiasm, hoping to catch a sight of Éomer so that I could avoid him. There was a small knot of people gathered on the steps to the Tower just to one side of me. I could hear their conversation quite easily, and I realized in astonishment that they were talking about me. 

'You have marked, no doubt, that he no longer wears his wedding rings? He did go to Rohan, you know.'

'She and her brother would have torn the flesh from him! Pitiable, really.'

I had, in truth, never even once thought that my affairs might be of sufficient interest to be a source of conversation; among my family I could perhaps understand it, yes, but not at court. I felt most terribly wounded. And I had a whole new sympathy for Éowyn. 

'Has anyone learnt yet why it was she left?' 

'I have heard naught in full, although I think it may be that he struck her.'

'At last, a show of strength! He submitted to his wife almost as much as he did to his father.' 

'And I can imagine being driven to strike her, she was the most insufferable creature.'

This was intolerable. Not so much the besmirching of my own character, although it hurt beyond words to think anyone could believe I would strike my wife, but to hear these vultures speak so vilely about a woman so infinitely their superior. I came out from where I had been standing, and as they became aware of my presence, an ominous hush fell. I cast my gaze about them, and one or two dropped their eyes, seemingly unwilling to look upon my face. Then I spoke, and my voice was very cold, and I made sure it carried. 

'It takes a particular degree of idiocy to insult a man so thoroughly within his hearing. I should, of course, expect no better from the vacuous and the vain. But I must insist that, while you may say whatever you choose about the Prince of Ithilien, you never speak in such a fashion of his wife again.'

There was a silence about me. I bestowed one final, icy gaze around, then I turned on my heel and went back into the White Tower. I hardly ever called upon the authority of my most significant rank; I think this was a measure of my very great anger. 

I had, of course, gone no more than a few steps inside before I felt awash with shame at my outburst and, between pitiable and insufferable, I was most upset from what I had overheard. I sought out my usual hiding place and leaned back on the wall, gnawing at my thumb nail and brooding. After a minute or two I heard someone approach. The King, of course, knew of my attachment to this spot.

'That was the most... eerie impersonation of your father.' 

'Oh, do not say that, I beg you! To behave so badly on such an occasion... I must ask your forgiveness - '

He waved his hand to stop me, then came and leaned back against the wall alongside me. 

'In all frankness, Faramir,' he said after a few moments, 'I think it does you little harm to fire off a few well-aimed darts now and again. The whole court has just had it demonstrated to them that there is a line that should not be crossed, even with that most agreeable of men, the Prince of Ithilien. And it was all deserved.'

I felt a little better. Perhaps it might be that some of the more unpleasant qualities my father had bequeathed me could, if contained, be turned to the good after all.

'_"The vacuous and the vain",' he murmured, and I winced, but he was nodding in what I began to suspect might be admiration. 'How do you manage to alliterate spontaneously?' He stood up straight and looked at me. 'Well. Are you coming back?'_

There was, when I came to think about, a certain absurdity to the pair of us lurking in a corridor. I straightened up too and ran my hand through my hair. 'It is tempting simply to go home, Aragorn,' I laughed, knowing that I would not. 

'You are not the only one so tempted!' He smiled back. 'If you come back with me now,' he added patiently, 'it will be plain to all that there is no breach between us, and that you have my support, as indeed you always do.'

So we went back together and, from our easy conversation and good humour, I think it was indeed plain that there was no rift between the King and the Prince of Ithilien. And, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the King of Rohan looking at me thoughtfully. 

Besides striking some fear into the hearts of people who were, I think, somewhat too easily cowed, there was another, more satisfactory outcome to my outburst. For I woke the next morning to find that I had at last come to a decision about what to do with my silver ring. 

When I became steward and took possession of the house, I cleared out much and, in a fit of black humour, I had a small bonfire. Several people looked on this with alarm, but I felt much better for it. They say that a funeral is more for those who remain than those who have gone, and there had been no funerals for my father and my brother, and I did not remember my mother's. My little fire, then, served a number of purposes. And onto it I cast some of my father's books - not many, and only from those which he had signed, and of which I had other copies. This rather restrained act of vengeance caused a little more alarm - or perhaps it was the relish with which I tore off the covers - but I felt a great sense of release watching those pages curl and char, as if something of my father's hold upon me had been broken. 

I had come to feel much the same about this ring, but there were other considerations. It was an heirloom of my family, going back even before Mardil, before we became the Ruling Stewards. And so it should go from me to my son, for he in turn would, one day, hold the office of Steward, as I did, and as my father had done, and his before him. Destroying it, then, would have been an injustice, denying my son what would be his by right and, I thought, an insult to my forefathers, including Denethor, who had through the long years, been so steadfast. 

So I had the ring melted down, and from the silver I had a new seal made, but set it in wood, and I kept it on my desk to use. I liked this change for other reasons too, for we were, by the grace of the Valar, no longer Ruling Stewards and, as the office had changed, so too should its symbol. And so it seemed to me that something with the past had at last been broken, but not that which was good and mattered. This device pleased me enough that I had another made, for I was indeed also Prince of Ithilien, with another set of duties in that name, and I had it set with that seal. I was very fortunate, I thought, to be in a position to do this, for history and tradition had always mattered much to me, and to be able to make a new custom was an honour for me, and a tribute to my fathers, whose diligence in their duty had earned me my title. But I preferred the seal set in wood, for it seemed to me that, between us, my father, my brother and I had had little success with rings. 

But these were matters for the future. For at the start of May I was content simply to quit Minas Tirith, cross the river for Ithilien, and at last take my son and daughter home. And as we came towards Emyn Arnen, I felt I had a great deal for which to be thankful. My children were alongside me, I was in the best health that I would ever be, I had begun to build a new life, and I hoped above all that she was happy in hers. 

***

A/N: Thank you so much to Isabeau and Kshar who, between them, helped me find out what had to be done with the silver ring, which has been a burden if not comparable to that poor Frodo carried, then something bloody close. And thank you to the Episcopal Witch, for making me think through more thoroughly what Faramir would think about all his relatives knowing he was ill. 

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Altariel 


	17. Chapter XVII

A/N: God, but Éowyn's hard work to write. Blood from the stone. I could not have written this chapter without the help of Kshar, who understands Éowyn a lot better than I ever will. 

Kathy: I'd assumed that Aragorn let Faramir know about the whole Thorongil business - or, more likely, given this bunch of repressed public schoolboys, he hadn't told him explicitly, but Faramir had worked it out. Imrahil would be old enough and would remember Thorongil, I'm sure. I'm not going to take this any further, but I would love to see a story about it. 

Dirian: Not directly copying Tolkien (I probably was in the other stories I've written), just trying to get the 'feel' right. None of Tolkien's works that I can think of off the top of my head use a first person POV (someone will instantly correct me on this, no doubt!), but I wanted to write something that would sound like the first person voices of people from Middle Earth might do, had they sat down and told you their stories. Hope it's worked OK. 

Rociriel: How's this for starters? Episcopal Witch: I swear this was already planned before your review of chapter 15.

I _love knowing what happens in the rest of this story. Bwaha! Should I write it? Or not? I could just tell you what happens: this spaceship lands, right, and... _

OK, on with the show. Thank you for reading and thank you for reviewing. 

Altariel

***

XVII

And so he had ridden off, and turned and raised his hand in farewell, and then he was gone. And I went back inside, and tried not to think of him. Not an easy task to set myself, with his two children before me, and the memory of him now so fresh. For, while all about him had been steeped in this new sadness, much had remained the same: his gestures, moving his hands restlessly when he spoke and pushing back his hair; his tone of voice, which had always been softly cadenced yet compelling; and his expressions, the look of concentration before he said something of consequence to him, and the sudden creasing of his smile when something pleased him. And my son had the same frown when he thought, and my daughter smiled the same smile, and they both had very dark hair. 

I did not much want to send them from me, so small and dear to me as they were, but to deny him their company for too long would have been an act of cruelty. His devotion to them was so plain and I had no fear for them in his care. Indeed, I believed that, no matter what anguish it would cause him, he would, without any hesitation, pick up a sword to defend them if they were in peril. But I myself did not yet wish to return to Minas Tirith, for in my mind there were few happy memories of that place, so I trusted my children to my brother and his wife, and sent them with my blessing to their father. And I missed them before they were out of my sight. 

In the quiet of that early summer, I walked the paths of my own childhood, and I wondered what I might do. But the future filled me with fear, and I turned for comfort to the past. And I thought of those who had once lived beside me in these halls, of my uncle and my cousin, and remembered them with love. Green grew the grass upon their graves, and the white flowers flourished in their memory.  

But thinking upon them my thoughts turned to darker days, when the snake had slid into our home and choked the life from us with slippery speech and wicked words. And I had felt the cold, but too late, for Edoras was already frozen, and I watched and despaired, with the king failing, and my cousin dead and, at the end, my brother in chains. And there was naught to stand between me and... him. Into this dreadful darkness a light came, and I clutched out for it, but it was beyond my reach. And then I wanted nothing; not life, not love, only an end to it all. And so I rode south, and I saw the king die, and I turned and faced the shadow and because there was naught else it could teach me, I slew it and then fell into darkness.

And then I woke, and beside me my brother wept for joy, and I felt... nothing. My heart lay dead within my breast and all the world about me was grey, as if covered with dust, or ash. I sat in my chamber with the window behind me, and I looked at the wall, to the east, and I wished at first for death for there was nothing else. And when that death did not come, I clawed at those about me and demanded some other release from my prison. And thus it was that I was taken into the garden and brought before the Steward of the City, and he was not the stern and aged lord I had expected, but a sad and still young man, with his arm in a sling like mine, who stood and listened gravely to my tale, and then looked at me as if he read my soul, and it moved him, because he felt it too. 

And so we walked together in the garden, and I knew not why I had consented to this, save that it seemed to bring him solace at a time when, I learnt, he was grieving for his brother, whom he had loved deeply, and for his father, whom he had loved too much. But naught, it seemed, could bring me comfort, not the fair and fragrant garden, nor the spring sun which warmed us as we walked, for my mind was full only of my sorrows. And if I had not felt the cold descend upon me, I almost missed the warmth, and this despite his undisguised but unassuming expression of affection. For all through this time, he walked and stood beside me patiently, and did not press his case, but sought only to lessen my distress. And all I - foolish girl! - could do was sigh for someone else. 

There was about him something very like the King, the same wisdom and nobility, but the quality was different, less remote, as if he moved between two worlds, one of great antiquity, and the other of the heart, with all its fears and follies, which he pitied. And I knew I could be safe with this man, who looked upon human frailty, and only forgave it. And when, at last, he made his quiet offer, I welcomed it, more than I would have from any other man. 

And so it seemed that my mind led always back to him and when we had first met. And there was more, for I found that, as I wandered about my home, that the sight of it was overlaid with memories of the time that he and I had been together here after our betrothal. When the King and his company had departed for Isengard, he had remained, as had his uncle. How much I admired the Prince, who was courteous and kind, and whose love for his nephew was plain for all to see and so endeared him to me further. And they were very similar, in look and in gesture, although the Prince's manner was easier, while the Steward was more thoughtful and would on occasion become very quiet. And I liked this quality of stillness about him, which no longer seemed sad, but was peaceful and calming. And how they made my me and brother laugh, these two men of Gondor, sparring easily with words, and I found that I could do this too, and his eyes shone to hear me speak, and he responded, very gently at first and stroking my hand, until he saw I was his match, and then he answered in kind, and still caressed my hand. 

His uncle departed after a week, and my brother tactfully withdrew, and so we were left alone together, and in that lazy, late summer, we discovered and explored what it might mean to be happy. We walked in the fields and gardens of my home, and talked much, and we were always touching. But one morning at the end of August, as we sat outside together, he seemed distracted and, although he tried to hide it, in low spirits, and I asked him what troubled him. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, and then and looked at me sadly. 'It is six months, Éowyn... my brother...' And then he fell silent. 

I took his left hand in mine, his ring cold against my palm. 'He died so bravely...' I said, hoping this might comfort him at least a little. 

At that his face was overcome with sorrow, and then he told me why it was that his brother had felt the need to redeem himself with a sacrifice. And I listened as he spoke and grieved for him, for I could think of my uncle and my cousin without any stain on their memory, and he could do this for neither his brother nor his father. 

'From all that you have said of him before,' I said when he had finished, 'I do not think this deed is the best by which to remember him. All else that he did... You must remember him as he truly was.'

'He was the best man in Gondor,' he said, with a smile of remembrance. 

'No-one could simply think that, with you standing by,' I replied. 

He dropped his head at that, and then raised my right hand to kiss it gently, and his lips lingered over the silver ring he had so recently given me to mark our betrothal. 'Not the best,' he murmured, for he was not at ease accepting compliments, 'but certainly the luckiest.'

Late that afternoon we walked through the gardens, and came to a little orchard, and I shuddered as we walked through. He put his arm about me and held me more tightly, and looked at me with concern. 

'What is it, Éowyn?' 

And because he had been so frank with me that morning, I was frank with him, and I told him about Gríma, and his face became flushed in anger, and he took both my hands and held them very tight as I spoke. And I explained how once I had been walking alone in this place, and he had appeared unexpectedly, and told of the encounter that had followed, of his whispered words and his fingers brushing against my cheek.   
My voice shook as I finished my tale, 'I knew I was in danger from him.' To my shame, I was shivering. 'I was so alone and so very afraid. The memory is very bad.' And I looked about me, and wondered if would ever walk here happily again.

He touched my chin very softly, and brought my face about, until I was looking at him, and his grey eyes were filled with compassion and love. 'Then let me give you a new memory of this place,' he said.

And he very gently drew close to me, dropping his head and brushing his lips against my cheek. His breath was feather light against my skin, and I shivered again, but this time not from fear. I put my head back and a soft sigh escaped me as he kissed me all over my neck and throat. The fingers of his right hand traced along my cheek and up through my hair, the press becoming firmer, but still tender. He slid his other arm behind me and I wrapped one about him, pushing the other through his soft black hair, twisting it about my fingers. His breathing was coming more quickly now. He looked at me again, the intensity in his eyes thawing me, firing through me; and then we kissed, full and deep, the taste of him warm and sweet - 

And someone was calling out our names. 

Our eyes shot open and we gazed upon each other wide-eyed and startled, and quickly drew apart. He screwed up his face in frustration, and I bit my lip, rested my forehead on his chest, and suppressed a laugh. 

He put his hands on my shoulders and I raised my head and smiled at him, and he cast his eyes lovingly about my face. Then he gave me a look of mild consternation, lifting his hand to my hair. 

'This will not do at all!' he murmured with a soft laugh, fumbling with the clasp that bound my hair from the side of my face and which had come loose. 'We should at least make a pretence at propriety. I would not have your brother's wrath fall upon me!'

I gave a most unfeminine snort and, patting his hand away, took over his attempts to manage my hair. He pulled his tunic straight and pushed a hand through his own hair, which made it no less untidy. 

'Do we look respectable?' he said. 

'Come here,' I said, and smoothed down his hair, as we smiled at each other. 'I think we look it, now, at least!' And he took my arm and, laughing, we left the orchard. 

Such memories he had left me! Sweet and bitter; the thought of our great happiness and our great hopes for the life we were about to start together. And most of all, the memory of his touch upon me, and how it was he always made me warm, when I had thought I would only ever be cold. How much more now I regretted pulling away from him, not just for the pain I had caused him in doing that, but because I would have felt his hand upon my arm again, and welcomed it. And this brought me only confusion, for our last touch had also been his hand upon my arm, which had bled as a result, and then he had hit glass in place of me. 

But still I judged it a great gift that he had given me here in Edoras, bringing me healing here in my home, so that I could now walk here and no longer shiver, but smile to think of how we had been. And, before that, there had been his greatest gift to me, when he had so gently, and without any indication his affection would be returned, drawn me back from the brink, and so saved me. I thought perhaps I had done his city an injustice by forgetting these memories, which had been buried deep beneath disappointment but which, when brought back to the surface, were so dear to me. 

And I wondered then what I had given him in return. Not healing - that was plain from the bruised and even broken man that had been here so recently, and that despite my avowal in the past that this was now my calling. And neither had I brought him protection for, despite all I had said, I had indeed sought this, as do we all, from the darkness, from fear, from loneliness. But who had protected him? When he had been here he had spoken, although indirectly, of being close to despair before the birth of our daughter. And I had not seen this, and I had not saved him from it as he had done for me. He was older, and had always seemed so much wiser, and I thought now that I had, perhaps, deferred too much to him and assumed he would always be as strong as he had been when we first met. For it seemed to me, as I thought back on our time together, that we had always been strongest and happiest when we had felt at ease to share our troubles. And I bitterly regretted that I had let him keep silent when he had returned from Ithilien, burdened with a new sorrow that neither of us could have foreseen. For I believed now that had he spoken then, or had I made him speak then, we would not now be in the state that we were. 

And what was that state? I could not judge for certain. For when he had left here, he had seemed happier, as if he had come to a decision; and the letter I had received from him since had told of the changes he was making to his house and, which I believed most telling, of his imminent return to Emyn Arnen. Once I had vowed to save this marriage - but now I was left wondering whether if he had indeed at last found some peace of mind, it would be better for him if we remained apart. And this thought filled me with great grief.


	18. Chapter XVIII

A/N: Thank you everyone who said that Éowyn sounded fine - phew! She's a tough cookie to write. And thanks to everyone for their patience with the posting problems. I'll keep on uploading to my website too: http://www.qresearch.org.uk/index.htm.

Nope, this story wasn't 'angst' when it started, either in the categorization, or in my mind! This is what happens when my id is let loose, I'm afraid. 

Deborah: Spaceship fiction. You can read my _Deep Space Nine fiction online at: http://www.qresearch.org.uk/personal/cardindex.htm. The __Blake's 7 stuff is mostly in zines: there's a partial listing and some links at: http://www.qresearch.org.uk/personal/fanfic.htm. _

Episcopal Witch asked: 'what's happened to the title of the story?' We're back to Faramir and Éowyn each making a move (Chapter XIII onwards), after the white knight - Imrahil - rode in to the rescue, with various degrees of success to his strategies. You could also say that the last two chapters were the resignations. 

Altariel

***

XVIII

I put down the book in which I had been failing to interest my son, and instead let him pull at my hair without any distraction. After a moment or two I gave a small yelp of pain, and he laughed. To show my extreme displeasure, I scooped him into my arms, kissed him firmly on the top of the head, and then let him run off across the garden. In truth, it was a relief to see him laughing. For, in the weeks since my children had arrived, my son had been, on the whole, withdrawn, and very distressed most nights. There was, of course, a simple explanation. The boy was missing his mother. 

This was not what I had wanted for my children. Indeed, it was the very opposite; always to be lacking either mother or father. It was as if, between us, Éowyn and I had contrived to arrange for our children a state of affairs as deficient as we each had borne in childhood. Already our son was suffering, and soon our daughter too would know nothing other than that her mother and her father were apart. All my wishes for a family in which my children could be as happy as possible had, it seemed, come to naught, and they would have second best, as their own mother and father had done. 

My son returned then, interrupting my thoughts, for he wanted to chatter to me, and I was very glad to see him happy. But that night he was crying again, and I put him into bed beside me and he curled under my arm. And I sang to him and stroked his hair until he slept; and I do not know whether this was the case for my son, but his small, warm body beside me was a great consolation.

The next afternoon we sat out in the garden again, for it was the beginning of June, a warm and pleasant time in Emyn Arnen. I settled my daughter down beside me then, tearing my eyes reluctantly away from her - but with one eye still on my son - I began to work through my letters. But my mind was too full, and it was not long before it returned to my thoughts of the day before. And, as I often found, it seemed I had come to a decision in my sleep. Considering again the disarray that was now my family, I knew I could no longer countenance it. For, as matters stood, the children would always be moving between Rohan and Gondor, and never settled in a single place they could call home, and I could not see how this would work in their favour. It entered my mind fleetingly that, since it was my own reappearance and involvement that was disturbing my son and causing his distress, perhaps it might be best if Éowyn were left in peace with the children until they came to adulthood - but this notion filled me with such alarm I knew it was intolerable. I thought then that perhaps they could remain at all times with her in Rohan and so be more settled, and that I might journey there as I had done before - but this, I felt, was also undesirable. My son would, one day, be the Steward of Gondor - and what attachment could he feel to a land in which he had spent no time? My daughter too, and just as much, should not be denied her heritage. And yet I could not abandon my duties to live beside them in Rohan - but how could I ask Éowyn to return? This was, I thought unhappily, the perfect solution, but one more easily decided than enacted. For however much I desired my family to be whole again - for my wife to be beside me - I was not sure that I had much choice in the matter. 

I thought then of other marriages about me and why it was that I, who had entered his own with such fine intentions and such great love, had failed so badly, when others had success and happiness. I thought of the King and Queen, and their great fortitude across all the years they had been apart; and of my uncle and his wife, and the courtesy and graciousness with which they always addressed each other, repeated now with my cousin Elphir and his wife. And I thought of Lothíriel, so much younger than I, and the humour and lightness that made her marriage so happy. All these people, who had suffered losses and griefs and come through the war as much as had Éowyn and I, and yet they had flourished while we had not. 

Last of all, my thoughts turned to what I could remember of my mother and my father. I recalled her fear, ever unvoiced, and of how she would cling to me, which I had welcomed as a child, but which I saw now for what it was, her misery. And I thought of my father, so stern and unforgiving; and, although I could not fully grasp the reasons why, it seemed that now I understood a little better something of the man he had been. For I myself had been on the edge of such a descent, and I too had begun slowly to starve, and it had seemed nothing would ever nourish me again. How terrible his loneliness must have been. I wished, with all my heart, that I might have staved off the famine that had so ravaged him, but I perceived now, as perhaps I had never done fully before, that the fault, wherever it lay, was not with me, and that he had been famished long before I had ever been born. 

So while I did not wholly understand what had formed my father's nature, I believed I knew now what had fixed it - the silence. His own economy and accuracy with his speech, whether giving an order or causing a wound, just enough for the desired effect. My mother, whose voice I could not recall, except perhaps a fleeting memory of someone singing to me. And my own silence, born of fear and kept in the belief that whatever I received was what I deserved, and so I made no protest. If only I had spoken once, I thought now, and confided in my uncle, it might be that my whole life would have been different. And then I longed for my brother, who would never let me think too long, who would force me to make decisions - and who had done my talking for me. But he was gone, and I remained, and I prayed he was at peace. Looking out across the garden, I saw my son, playing happily now; and I sighed, and I picked up my pen, and I began a letter to my wife. 

In this letter I wrote of all I had been thinking - of how I saw that our children would be made unhappy as a result of my mistakes, and of my desire to make whatever sacrifices I could to ensure their happiness. I detailed the solutions which I had considered - including an offer to remain away, if she deemed this in their best interest, for the decision I would have to leave to her - but I wrote also of my earnest desire for us to be a family once again, and I most humbly begged her to consider the possibility of returning to live in Gondor, on whatever terms she chose. For I thought, but did not write that, however it was that I had persuaded her to become my wife once, I would not have such a success a second time. 

I signed my name and sat staring sightlessly at the page while the ink dried. I held little hope that she would choose this final option. For although I had made my case only on the grounds of attempting to determine what was best for our son and daughter, I could not imagine what would tempt Éowyn to return to a place in which she had been so unhappy, and to live with a man that had only brought her sorrow and from whose touch she flinched. And I feared greatly that my audacity would only arouse her anger, and that she might as a result choose to dismiss me entirely. But I believed very much that the request had to made, for the sake of our children. 

And then a cautious hope rose in me, for I knew how much she loved our children and, given the cordiality that had emerged during our last encounter, I thought that she might well understand the motives for my writing. And then it occurred to me that she had, when we quarrelled, often complained of my passivity, of my willingness to defer for the sake of peace. So I hoped too that she might see this letter as an attempt on my part to be more active, of risking rather than protecting myself. For I am hardly one of nature's gamblers - in the conduct of war, yes, but not in matters of the heart, where the damage can be as great, if of a different nature - but I felt that this chance had to be taken. Sometimes it had proven, when I trusted my instincts and did not over-worry matters, that I chose the best course of action. And if I did provoke her wrath, and she did dismiss me, then I would have to be patient, and I would not simply surrender, but keep trying to restore in her some trust in me, with all of my respect for her and my love for her and our children. For, I thought, I had been patient once before - and then she had agreed to marry me! And had I not waited so long to act, I would not have endured such a long and painful separation from my children. Perhaps, I thought dryly, as I folded the letter, I need not simply accept that my life had to be a tragedy - however beautiful they were to read. 

All of a sudden I heard my son's voice, and I looked up in alarm. It seemed that he was calling for his mother. I pushed my papers aside and got to my feet, and then saw that he was pointing behind me. I turned to look - and there stood my wife.

'Éowyn...' I said in quiet delight, since the sight of her only brought me happiness, and to see her beyond expectation even more so. 

'I am sorry to intrude upon you at home, my lord,' giving me a cautious smile in return. 

'It is hardly an intrusion...'

'But I did wish to see how Emyn Arnen was faring,' she said. 

I watched her as she glanced about the gardens. 'And what is your conclusion?' I asked. 

'As fair as ever it was. Fairer, perhaps.'

At this point her son reached her, and she swung him up into her arms, and I smiled to see their reunion. 'And I came because I did not much care for the separation,' she confessed to me, a little shakily. 

'That I can understand,' I said softly, and then we sat down on the grass opposite each other, and all her attention was on her children for a little while, and it brought me much happiness to see them all together and, knowing how I had felt to see my children again, I was glad they were no longer apart.

'You are working as hard as ever, I see,' she said at length, and nodded in the direction of my papers. 

'Just some letters,' I said, and pushed the one I had just finished safely into the pile. I hesitated before speaking again. 'Will you stay here?' I said at last. 'While you are in the south, I mean,' I amended quickly. 

'Thank you, but I am a guest of the King and Queen,' she said. She gave a wry smile. 'Who would ever have thought I would stay in the city by choice!'****

'I did not like to remark upon it!' I laughed, then added, 'You would, of course, have the Steward's house at your disposal, but I fear it is hardly comfortable at the moment.'

'I have seen,' she replied with good humour. 'Your changes are most... ambitious,' she laughed back. 

'My uncle is very distressed about the whole project,' I said, raising an eyebrow, and reached out to retrieve our daughter from her, so that she might better cope with our son, but taking great care not to touch her. 'I believe he thinks I will be bankrupted.'

'I am very glad he is still so protective of you,' she said warmly. 

'It is but one of his many kindnesses to me.' And again, there was a short silence between us, before I spoke again, a little haltingly. 'I imagine you would like the children to return to the city with you...?'

'Have you tired of them already?' she said in surprise. 

'Indeed, no!' I said earnestly, before I saw that she was jesting. 'Although I confess that they do exhaust me,' I added with a small laugh. 

'You understand me a little better, my lord,' she smiled, and I tilted my head in acknowledgement of her point. 'I think they should remain here,' she said firmly.

And then we fell to talking, about her journey and her plans. It seemed that she had been in Minas Tirith but a day, and that she would stay until the end of the following month, when she would take the children back with her to Rohan. 

'I would, if I may,' she said, hesitating, 'come and see you all now and again.'

'As if you need to ask me that... I hope you will come every day, if that is what you would like.'

'I do not wish to take away from your time with your children - '

'I would rather the family spent all the time together that it could,' I answered, and she seemed to give this statement some consideration. 

'Then I shall come each day, by your leave,' she said softly. 

And I glowed with pleasure at the prospect of spending so much time with her when she came to see her children. 

'I heard of your defence of my honour at court,' she said suddenly, and shot me a amused look. 

'From the King and Queen no doubt,' I said, suspecting immediately the worst tale bearers in the kingdom - barring, perhaps, my uncle. 

'No, in a letter from my brother. He was most impressed with you.'

'With the greatest of respect to the King of Rohan, my lady,' I said gently, 'it was not done for his benefit, nor to win back his favour.'

'I know,' she said simply. 'And so does he.' And I was glad to hear that, even though her brother and I might never restore our friendship to anything close to its former ease, still I would at least not be forced to take evasive action the next time we met. 

So the day wore on, and evening approached, and she came into the house, and we put the children to bed. And then I accompanied her to the stables, to say farewell, and as we walked together I kept my arms folded and a few inches between us. 

'Well,' she said, when she had mounted her horse. 'Until tomorrow, I suppose.'

'I suppose so,' I answered. And we smiled at each other, and then she rode away. It was only after she was no longer in sight that I wondered briefly whether she would have stayed if I had invited her to join me for dinner. Then later that evening, on my way to bed, I stopped in my study, and I put the letter I had so agonized over at the back of a drawer. 

So she came each day, and we were mostly with our children, as we had been when I had gone to Edoras. It was very like that time, except I was not so overwrought, for Emyn Arnen had always been a place where I had felt contented; indeed, it was my home. And she too was happy, I think, delighting in the children, and all of our conversations were friendly, and we talked a great deal - not only about the children, but not about all. And I kept what I hoped was a subtle but scrupulous distance. 

One day, not quite two weeks after she had arrived, we were sitting on a bench in the garden with a little space between us, and we fell to talking about her home, which I remembered with affection, and I admit that at the back of mind I was perhaps trying to determine how she might receive a suggestion to leave there and return to Gondor. 

'When the children left, it was very quiet,' she said. 'And I found myself thinking back to our time there together before we married.'

'I was very happy then,' I said quietly, folding my arms and looking out across the garden, thinking back to that remarkable time in my life, which sometimes seemed to have happened to another man. 'I always think of Rohan very fondly because of those memories.'

'I found that I too have only happy memories now, when so much could be unhappy. And I believe that that is thanks to you.'

I turned to look at her then, in surprise. 

'For not only did I remember our happiness there together, but I recalled all that you did when we first met, and I was so despairing.' She stopped for a moment. 'I do not believe I ever fully thanked you for that,' she concluded softly.

I looked down at the grass, very moved by what she had said. 'I could have done naught else,' I said at length. 'You were... you are the most exceptional person... I desired... I _desire only for you to receive what is your due. The best of everything.' I looked at her again. 'I am very glad to learn I did not wholly fail in my efforts.'_

She smiled at me, but I looked away, and I sighed, and fell silent, for although I could only be glad to hear her speak of her new-found happiness, I was not wholly encouraged to learn that she had found such peace of mind at Edoras. And at length she stood up to leave.  

'Until tomorrow,' she said, with a smile, as she had taken to saying each evening before she departed. 

'Until tomorrow,' I said, returning her smile, but I felt rather sad. 

When she came the next day, our conversation stayed mostly on the trivial. And so it was that late in the afternoon, as we walked together, with our son a little way ahead, I was unprepared when suddenly she seized my right hand. 'What has happened to your rings?' she said, in surprise. 

I looked down at my bare hand for a moment before speaking in order to consider my reply. 'I do not wear tokens that I do not merit,' I replied gravely. And we both looked at her right hand, which still bore her gold and silver rings. 

We stood there for a little while, holding hands, looking silently upon each other. It was the first time we had touched since that terrible night. And then I slowly drew my hand away. 

'When I was a boy...' I began, looking straight at her - and then stopped and dropped my head. I had not thought it could hurt so much to speak.

'Please tell me,' she said softly, and took back my right hand. 

I swallowed and concentrated hard, wondering if I had been wise to broach this matter. But she had been so kind and warm since her arrival, and I had made that decision not to remain silent and yet had not acted upon it. When I spoke I still could not look at her. 'My father... had a heavy hand... With me and my mother.'

Her hand was pressing my own very tightly. 'I did not know...' she said softly. 'You never even hinted.' 

'I had not thought about it for a long time; I was so happy with you; we were so peaceful. It seemed I would never have to think of it again...'

'More fetters,' she murmured. 

I did not understand what she meant, but I was somewhat distressed and did not ask. 'And then I did what I did to you - ' I continued, and risked a quick glance at her. Her face was very still, but she was frowning. 

'It is not, I think, the same,' she said firmly. 

'No, no; I want to explain; you must understand...' I said, and I held up my left hand, now bare. 'My father's heavy hand... had a ring on it.'

She lowered her head. 'I see,' she said. 

'When I saw the blood on your arm...' my voice was very quiet now. 'My mother... the memories are very hazy... but there was, I think, something similar. And I too know how that ring feels... To think I had done something he might have done - it was unendurable. So I hit the glass. I suppose it was the only punishment I could think of at the time.' 

She stood in thought for a little while. 'I had believed that the blow was meant for me,' she admitted at last. 

I looked at her in great dismay, for I had never once thought that this was what she believed. I would never want to strike her. She was the dearest thing to me in the world. 'Oh, my beloved lady, it was most certainly not,' I assured her. 'It was meant for me.'

I watched her face as she digested what I had just said and I wondered just how much of our life together we had spent with such different perceptions of the same events, and how we could know this, if we never talked of it. 

After a moment, she spoke again. 

'When you say... a heavy hand...?'

I caught the questioning note of her tone, and I pulled back my right hand to put it to my pounding forehead. How much I had been dreading making this explanation. 'Where to begin...' I murmured, pressing my palm on the top of my head for a moment. And once I had collected myself, I spoke a little more about how it had been to be the second son of the last Steward of Gondor, and never knowing which to fear more, the bite of his tongue or the anger of his fist. When I finished, she stood for a little while with her head down and her arms folded before her. 

'Hearing you speak...' she began, and then faltered, and looked towards our children. 

My heart constricted, as if bound tight in iron, and I wrapped my own arms tightly about me. For having heard now of the violence that ran like poison through the veins of the stewards, how would she ever want to be near me again? And how - despite my love for them - could she trust me near our children? Perhaps, it came to me, if I had told her this before we were betrothed, she would have chosen not to marry me, which would have saved us both much grief. I felt more bereft than I had done since that terrible moment I realized that I had driven her away - the first time, it now seemed. 

All of a sudden, she seized my left hand and held it to her. And as she looked straight at me, I thought I caught a glitter in the corner of her eye. 

'I am glad now,' she said passionately, 'that you blocked my blow. For having weathered so many, I do not think you should ever receive any more.'

I could not answer her. Her generosity, her courage, her swift loyalty and fierce kindness - these were the qualities that had made me love her, from the outset. She did not think herself into paralysis - she grasped what mattered in an instant and made the world crystal clear. I loved her. She was my soul. 

Her face creased all of a sudden in concern. Letting go of my hand, she traced her fingers across my cheek, very softly. It seemed that there were tears there. Gently, exquisitely, she brushed them away. Her hand came to rest cupping my face and, with the smallest of movements, I could press my lips against her palm; hardly a kiss, more in obeisance. It was the first time I had dared move to touch her since she had pulled away from me in Edoras. I breathed her in shakily, and lifted my eyes very slowly to look upon her. A flush was rising from her throat, the smooth pale skin of her neck and cheeks turning a soft pink. And so we stood, looking at each other, and I was trembling, and she was swaying, back and forth, and each time she seemed a fraction closer. 

Then I heard a sound, and it broke our trance and we both glanced down. Our son had come to see us. 

A smile suffused her lovely face. She dropped her hand from my cheek, reluctantly I thought, then she stooped and picked him up, bestowed one kiss upon him, and then handed him to me. Her arm brushed against mine as I took him from her and we both shivered and tried to cover it. Settling into my embrace, our son put his head on my shoulder and locked his arms about me. As she watched this, her smile widened and her eyes shone. I gave her a somewhat wistful smile in return, and then rubbed the cheek that she had so recently touched against his hair, with a slight, unsteady sigh. 

She took a breath too, and gazed about the gardens for a moment, before looking back at me. Her face was composed again, although her eyes were still alight. 

'I wonder,' she said lightly, 'if you might come to the city tomorrow. It seems a great deal has changed in my absence. Or,' she said, more thoughtfully, 'there is much I had not marked before.' She smiled again at me and then raised her eyebrow. 'And it occurs to me,' she added, and her eyes now had that dry, narrow look that had always so delighted me, 'that I of all people should be able to prevail upon the Steward for a tour.'

I cleared my throat. 'Such a courteous request could hardly be denied, my lady.'

We looked at each other again, across our son. 

'I must go,' she said at last, with a note of apology. 'I am expected.'

'Of course,' I murmured. Hearing this, Elboron demanded to come and see her horse. I nodded distractedly. I believe he could have acquired both my houses and most of my property if he had asked for them at that moment. 

So, after she had made her farewell to our daughter, we went to the stables with her, and they patted the horse together, and I looked at her and thought how beautiful she was. Then we stood and watched as she made ready to leave, to say goodbye. She kissed her son, and then turned to me.

'Thank you for telling me all you did today,' she murmured. 'I know it was not easy.'

'You deserve a full account,' I said softly. 'Thank you for your understanding.'

She stood and looked back at me for a moment and then, on an impulse it seemed, she leaned in and kissed my cheek. She moved too quickly and I was holding our son too awkwardly for me to return it, and she had mounted her horse and was ready to go before I could collect myself. 

'Until tomorrow,' she said, looking down at me. 

'Until tomorrow.'

And she left and we waved; and then I went back indoors and settled our son and daughter, and I sat for a while staring at an open book and not reading a word before I too went to bed. The children slept soundly. Their father, of course, barely slept at all. 


	19. Chapter XIX

A/N: Slow coming, this one - required some delicate handling. Hope I've pitched it right. And I've had a handful of work deadlines to deal with leading up to the Easter holiday. Also stupid of me to decide to do a chapter involving lots of description, since I hate writing description. 

eowyn in disguise: Nope, I'm absolutely not tired of this story; in fact, it consumes my thoughts...! There will be two more chapters after this one (i.e. there will be 21 in all). I'm so pleased you like TES: _Ash Wednesday is my favourite too :)  I'm not a published (fiction) author, but fingers crossed. _

Thank you, Isabeau. 

KB: No Bath colonnade, but at least, as promised, there's another garden. 

Altariel :)

***

XIX

I did not sleep well. Not just because this was summer in Gondor and the nights were so warm, but also because I had so much to think upon. It seemed to me that in a single afternoon we had said more to each other - and of more worth - than we had in a year, if not much longer.

I had had no inkling of what he had told me and, as he spoke, I was chilled to my core. It was unbearable to look across at our children, so small and so vulnerable, and who brought so much joy to us both, and think that anyone could want to harm their own child. But when I looked up to say this to my husband, I was shocked to see his unhappy face, and I saw that he had been afraid, that I would somehow blame him, or think him capable of the same behaviour. And so - despite the great frustration - I could hardly regret out son's appearance. For it had allowed me to do the best thing I could think of that would proved to my husband my trust in him. I handed him our son. 

And then there was another reason that I did not sleep well. For I was looking forward to the next day most eagerly. 

He was a little late arriving, and it was some time after noon when he came running across the courtyard to where I stood waiting for him beneath the White Tree. He looked hot from his ride in to the city and then from his run up from the stables. Our son, he explained, had not welcomed the idea of being left without either parent to hand. 

'He took some persuading that I was going to come back,' he said. 

I was most anxious for a while, and wondered if we should go back to him, but he assured me that he was now happy, and I trusted my husband's opinion when it came to the wellbeing of our children, and I tried to set aside my worries. 

'Where then shall we begin?' I said. 

He hesitated for a moment. 

'I wonder... ' he said. 'It is some weeks now since I have been in the city. I would like to see what progress has been made on the house.' He looked at me quickly. 'If you would prefer not to visit there I can return another day - '

'I should like to see it,' I replied, for I was curious. I had seen only the outside, although the Queen had spoken of the extent of the work he was undertaking. 

'Good!' he said, giving me his sudden, open smile, plainly very pleased by my response. And so we made our way across the citadel and towards the place that had once been my home. 

When we stepped through the door and into the hallway, I gasped. It was completely changed. It was much lighter, for the wooden panelling that had lined the walls and had given the hall a distinguished, if sometimes gloomy, look, had been removed. More noticeably, the ceiling had gone, and the hallway was now two stories high. Above my head, light poured in from what had once been bedroom windows. And the heavy carpets had been lifted, and part of the floor was now tiled, with small black and white squares. Everything seemed different and, although it was clear that the work was only partially done, for the walls were unpainted and the chequered floor yet unfinished, it was possible to see what was intended. 

'Was that dismay or approval?'

I turned to look at my husband, who was leaning on the doorframe with arms folded, one eyebrow raised at me. 

'Approval,' I replied. 'I think it much better.'

'So do I.'

We went a few steps further inside and when we reached the stairway, I ran my hand along the banisters. The wooden ones had been replaced by wrought metal. 'This is very different,' I murmured. 

'I had particularly unpleasant memories of the old stairway,' he said and, although his tone was not emotional - was light, even - his words cut through me. I put my hand on his arm and he turned to look at me, soberly for a moment, and then he smiled. 

'That floor should be finished,' he said. 'I wonder what the excuse will be this time.'

We stayed some time, although it could be seen very quickly how extensive the changes were, and throughout the whole house. There was naught else so dramatic as the entrance, but here and there doors had been blocked up and new ones opened, and some walls moved. And the smallest of details had been attended to; every door handle or decoration had been removed and was being replaced. We sat for a while on the floor of what had been my sitting room, which had a new window and was now very sunny but as yet bare, and we sorted through and settled on the plans for what would become the children's bedrooms. When we stood up again, he brushed his fingers against my cheek. 

'Dust,' he said, by way of explanation, although that did not account for his pushing my hair back behind my ear. 

I took his arm as we left the house, and so it was that we left the upper level and walked down into the city. We had not been walking long when we were stopped by a passer-by who wished to welcome me back to the city and congratulate my husband on my return. This happened several times, to his increasing discomfort. 

'I am so sorry,' he murmured awkwardly, after a particularly effusive encounter during which he had plainly had to make a great effort to be so courteous as he was. 'I should have thought that this might happen.'

'It does not matter.'

'Perhaps we might find some peace off the main road.'

I was about to jest that he did not need to hide me away, but I caught the look on his face and he was clearly most upset. 

'Yes,' I said. 'I would like us to have a little peace.' 

He nodded and seemed a little happier at this prospect, and led me down onto the fifth level, where we ducked into a side street. It was indeed much quieter, and I felt him relax. 

We walked arm in arm along these narrow streets, shaded but still warm in the summer afternoon. Here and there, looking past archways and through gates, I would catch a glimpse of a little garden, or a paved courtyard, or hear the soft sound of a fountain. Behind the sombre stone fronts, the city hid away treasure upon treasure. And although this area was much quieter than the main thoroughfare, it was not silent. Birds were singing, children were playing, and we could hear the chatter of the townsfolk as they went about their business. The city was very alive. 

We wandered through this pleasant district, following a meandering path since the streets were haphazard, but keeping more or less in the direction of the main road towards the gate. As we walked, I asked him about the work he had been carrying out rebuilding the city. In answer, he spoke mostly of how much was due to the people of the Wood and of the Mountain, but I had spoken to the King on this matter and I knew that the successes were at least in equal part because of the knowledge and sensibilities of the Steward. 

'Show me something,' I said at length. 'Something with which you are most pleased.'

'As you wish,' he said. 

He led me down onto the fourth level, and we walked westwards. At last we came to set of steps built into the wall, and we climbed these, and walked along the top even further west. At length, he came to a halt. We looked out of the city for a little while, south and east, for the view from this high across the Pelennor was always a marvel, and on a day so clear as this we could see easily as far as the ships gliding into the landings at Harlond, and the hills of Emyn Arnen beyond the river. 

Then he turned from the view and back in towards the city. We were looking upon on a long avenue lined with a single row of trees with leaves of the darkest green I had ever seen. The row stretched round the curve of the circle of the city. 

'They have white blossom in the spring,' he said. 'Which fits very well. Look at the buildings beyond,' he prompted gently. 

Behind the trees and, like them, following the bend of the city, ran a long row of tall town houses, built from white stone, each several stories high. The stonework was exquisite. Each house stood behind railings and was entered up a small flight of steps, and the doors and windows were decorated with the most beautiful frescoes. The ones nearest to where we stood were already inhabited, although there was still much work to be done on many of those that went back eastwards in the direction of the keel. And, as they shone white behind the dark green of the trees, the effect was of a long, cool elegant line, stretching around the city. When it was finished, and they were all inhabited, it would be the most lovely district. 

'These are beautiful,' I murmured. 

'They are rather, are they not? This part of the city was derelict until we began work on these.' 

'What stood here before?' I asked. 

'They were houses before, but there was not much left of them, just the facades. They had been abandoned for... oh, many hundreds of years, since the reign of Castamir - '

'During the Kin-Strife,' I said. 'So many people were lost in the civil war that parts of the city fell empty.'

'Yes,' he murmured, turning to gaze at me. 'That's right.' His look became one of slight suspicion. 'Have you been studying?' 

'You are not the only one that can read,' I replied. 'And the King told me some more. But he also said that if I did wish to know the history of Gondor, I should speak to its Steward.'

'Did he?' And he gave a low laugh. 'I am quite sure he knows as much as I.'

'He does not teach so well as you. You are not quite so... prosaic.' 

He kept his face straight with an effort. 'You must mention that to him. He should, I think, be aware of the full range of my talents.'

'I believe he already is.'

He smiled at me, and then looked away, sidestepping the compliment. 

'Tell me more about the buildings,' I prompted. 

'Are you sure I am not boring you? Not even a little prosaic?'

'I shall tell you when you are.'

He laughed out loud. 'Yes, I believe you would, Éowyn! I could always rely on you to give me the truth!' He cast his eyes warmly about my face for a moment. 'Let me tell you something very particular about these buildings,' he said softly, 'Something I have not told anyone else - although I am certain the King knows.' Then he leaned back against the wall, and pointed west. Looking out in that direction, I saw a plateau sloping downwards, joining the hill on which the city stood to the mountain behind. A pathway wound down from the sixth level and, when it came to the plateau, became a road lined with domed buildings. Here on the fourth circle, and so far west, we were on a level with these solemn stone halls. 

'That is Rath Dínen,' he said. 'The Silent Street.' He gave me a quick look to make sure I understood, which I did, and then pointed again. 'Do you see that dome, there - much newer than the rest?' He looked at me again and I nodded. 'The House of the Stewards. My father's contribution to the rebuilding of Minas Tirith.' He gave me a dry smile. 'I became tired of not coming to this part of the city,' he said. 'So I decided to put a contribution to its rebuilding here myself. Something else to think upon, when I come this way.' 

I had told this man he was a coward. I put my hand on his arm and pressed. 

'I have not just restored them, you see,' he said, smiling at me and rubbing my hand. 'They are rather different from what they were.' He gave a slight sigh and seemed for a moment much older. 'We cannot, I think, live solely in the past, even a past as compelling as the one we have inherited. We carry such a weight of our history in Gondor, and it is a source of deep pride and of great wisdom - but it should not crush the life from us. This is not Númenor, nor is it Gondor as it was. It is something new, and yet day by day more ancient.' He fell silent, and then he reddened slightly. 'You should not let me warm to this theme,' he apologized. 'I fear that this is where I do indeed become dull!'

'Not in the slightest. I am glad to hear you speak so fully,' I said quietly. 'I was so caught up in my own unhappiness here. I never truly grasped how you love this city.'

He gazed at me. 'I almost died at its gates to defend it, Éowyn. Yes, I love it.' He looked up and around him. 'The city of the men of the West. All that remains of Númenor.' He looked back at me, his eyes for a moment grey and grave; and then he smiled and looked very young. 'And I am its Steward!' he laughed. 'In all of my dreams, I never saw that!'

I looked up and around me once more. 'These will stand for centuries,' I said. 'And you put them here.'

I watched him absorb that thought, then a glow came into his eyes, one that was not often seen there, of pride, and quiet satisfaction. 'Yes,' he said simply. 'Yes, I did.'

Late afternoon found us sitting on the grass eating apples in a tiny walled garden on the second level. We were leaning back against an old wall, the stone cool against our backs in the heat. There was a small, well-kept lawn and a row of trees shaded the far side of the garden where we sat. He had pulled the apples off one of the trees as we had come past. 

'Should you be doing that?' I asked severely. 

He looked at me in mock alarm. 'You must not tell the authorities,' he replied, throwing an apple at me, which I caught with ease. 

We had wandered along numerous back streets before we had reached this place, passing through a tall gate and crossing the lawn to sit in the shade of the trees. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he ate his apple. 

'I have not been here for years,' he murmured, chewing thoughtfully. 'I used to come here all the time, after my brother left for the army. It was very quiet. Better than being at home. I got a lot of reading done.'

'Why did you never bring me here before?' I asked curiously, licking the juice off my fingers. 

He looked at me, and considered the question. 'You never seemed very interested in exploring the city before,' he replied at last. 

'I am sorry,' I said softly. 

'It is hardly your fault,' he said mildly. 'It is not as if I helped ensure you acquired warm feelings towards the place.'

I did not answer, and looked down at the grass for a while, thinking. And then I came to a decision. 

'It is my turn to tell you a secret,' I said. 

He looked at me with interest and perhaps amusement. 'Go on!'

I twisted a little to look him properly, propping myself on my right hand. His face became more serious as he caught my expression. 

'When you went to Ithilien,' I said, 'the time you found out you were ill...' I looked at him carefully, but he simply nodded his encouragement. 'While you were away, I thought I was ill too. I thought that the shadow had returned, and that I was going to die.'

A look of great alarm crossed his face, and he reached out and took my left hand between both of his. 

'But,' I continued, 'it was just that I was having a baby. I had not realized. Haleth had to tell me.'

He began to caress my hand between both of his, the calluses rough against my skin, although the touch was very gentle. He was the kind of man, it crossed my mind, that should have had beautiful hands. 'Oh, Éowyn,' he murmured. 'I had no idea... What a terrible thing...'

'I feel rather foolish about it,' I smiled, but I felt the prickling of tears in my eyes. 

'No!' he said with quiet intensity, and began to stroke my hair. 'You must not think that. Éowyn, you could not be foolish if you tried.'

'And I missed my mother,' I added, about which I still felt I had been too sentimental. 

'Of course you did!' 

It seemed there was no frailty that he did not understand. 

Suddenly his face was overcome with a great wave of remorse. 'All that I said to you...' he said suddenly. 'As if it were not hurtful enough... how much worse this must have made it...' He looked at me. 'I am so sorry,' he said. 

'You would not have done it if I had not been silent on the matter.'

'Which seems to have been our greatest mistake.'

'We would not, I think, make it again,' I agreed. 

'How I wish I had been there for you,' he said softly. 'I would have done anything to - ' He stopped for a moment. 'I was going to say protect you,' he admitted. 

I smiled at him. 'I think I may have liked that,' I confessed. 

He began stroking my hair again, a very gentle, soothing motion. I followed the movement for a few moments and then with a slight sigh, I dropped my head to rest it against his chest, and I slipped my arms about him. I could hear his heart beating. He shifted slightly to lean back more comfortably against the wall, and then put his left arm about my waist, his right hand still playing with my hair. I felt him bury his face in my hair for a moment, and then he put his other arm about me, and settled his head on top of mine. And then, because the day was so warm and we were so at ease, we both fell asleep. 

When I opened my eyes again it was evening. The light had faded somewhat, but the heat still lay on the city. It would be another sticky night. I sighed and stretched, and then nestled down a little more into his chest.

'I wonder,' my husband said politely from just above me, 'if you might possibly move your head? I have cramp.'

I sat up quickly. 'How long have you been sitting there like that?' I said, in dismay. 

'About half an hour.'

'You should have woken me!'

'I know better than to wake you before you are ready, Éowyn!' he laughed, flexing and rubbing his left arm. 'I do value my life!'

I could not bear to reckon how long it was since last we had slept side by side. He spoke as if it were yesterday. 

I watched him as he stood up and walked a few steps away, stretching his arms up and finally bringing them to rest behind his head. Then he stood in silent contemplation of the garden. That quality of stillness was there yet, and I saw that the deep sadness that had accompanied it when last he had been to Edoras was much lessened. He seemed almost serene. 

'We should go down to the gates,' I said. 'And finish our tour.'

He turned, his reverie broken, and smiled down at me. 'If you would like,' he said. He put out a hand to me, and I took it, and let him help me up. And so it was that we were walking hand in hand when at last we came down to the lowest level, and went through the gates of the city onto the Pelennor. 

It was dusk now, and the lamps were being lit along the road, but the traffic coming in and out of the city was still busy, and we were at length obliged to come off the road. We struck south-east, walking very slowly. And after a only a little while, I began to shiver, despite the heat of the evening. 

'What is it, Éowyn?' 

I pointed in the direction in which we were walking. 'A little way ahead is a piece of ground burned black,' I said, and shivered again. 

He put his arm about my shoulders, and I felt that he too had gone cold. 'We should not have come here,' he said abruptly. 'Not in the twilight.'

I glanced up at his face, which was paler than ever, and his eyes and his mouth were set. He turned hastily and began to stride back towards the road, drawing me with him. But when we reached the road, I made him stop, and I looked back, and began to speak. 

'It was dawn when we rode onto the field,' I said. 'But I would not have cared if the sun had fallen from the sky. And that was what it seemed to do.' 

He drew in a sharp breath, and pulled me closer to him, and whether this was to comfort me or him I did not know. I hoped that it was both. 

'The King fell,' I carried on, 'and the beast and the Shadow filled the sky, screaming. And I knew that they would take me, so I killed them. And yet they still took me - down, down into the darkness. I thought I was lost, even when I woke. And then you brought me back.'

I stopped speaking and looked up at him. The lamps of the road were flickering above us, but even their red glow could not disguise his pallor. Behind us, the traffic on the road filled the deepening dusk with a slow and steady rumbling. He stood looking east, perfectly still, his eyes wide and dark and unblinking.  

'It took us two days to get here,' he said suddenly. 'Two days... And I had not even slept the night before we left for the river. I was already dead on my feet...' He gestured east down the Causeway Road. 'When we quit the forts, someone had to do it... the wounded, the ones I could not save. Who else was there to do it? I could not ask anyone else.' He looked at me bitterly. 'Some of them thanked me.' He began to  tremble and struggled to control himself. 'So that was how the day started! And then it was noise. All noise. No sense. No sense to it at all. And the shrieking...' He fixed his grey eyes on me. 'You know all about that. You ended it. I never thanked you for that.' Tears were streaming down his face. 'All I wanted was an end to it. All I wanted was peace.'

Something binding him broke. He clutched at me, and I grasped him into my arms. He clung back and his hold was desperate. His head fell onto my shoulder and he wept freely, at last. 

'I had not truly understood,' I murmured, stroking his hair, through my own tears. 'Not until now. Not until you told me.' And I lifted his head, so I could look upon his face, streaked with tears. 'This is a terrible place,' I whispered. 'But I would give you a new memory of it.' 

I saw his eyes widen in remembrance and in understanding, and he nodded. And as we kissed, all the cold and the hunger were abated, and we wept, and we cared not who could see us. 


	20. Chapter XX

XX

Talk, they had all said. You must talk. An eloquent man struck dumb. Is that what they saw? 

How wise they had been, my friends and my family, since for all my gift of speech and for all I had felt the weight of the silence press the life from me, I had not grasped until I spoke how it would release me. And there we stood, she and I, at the gates of the city, where we had both near died, and we made our decision to live again. And yet, as we picked a slow, unsteady way from the gates up through the city, it was enough simply to hold her close to me and to tell her what I had known and thought and felt since first we had walked together in the garden - but had never said enough - that I loved her. 

And when we finally reached home, and crossed the threshold together, we were both crying again, but somehow she seemed to be transforming all my sorrow into joy, as she had always done, and I felt most acutely the agony that had been her absence. When at last she fell asleep in my embrace, with her cheek against my chest and her arms around me, I recalled that in the past she had always slept with her back to me, and I thought that I liked this new way better. And when I too finally slid into sleep, I dreamed that I was ten years old, and lying on the sand at Dol Amroth, singing and watching the waves lap against the shore, with the sun warming my back but not burning it. And I knew that I would never fear fire or water or memory again. 

I woke not long after dawn and screwed open one eye. The world was very still and sunlight was falling upon my face. I clamped my eye shut again and two questions strayed across my drowsy mind - why I had not drawn the curtains before going to bed, and when it was that my son had become so heavy. A murmur beside me brought me to my senses. I had not drawn the curtains because this was not my house in Ithilien, but an undecorated room in my home in Minas Tirith. And the head that lay upon my chest was not my son's, but my wife's. 

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud, my happiness was so great. But she was still sleeping deeply, and I did not want to wake her. So I lay and watched the sunlight move across the unpainted walls, and then looked out upon the trees in my garden, a breeze picking through the leaves. I felt her shiver slightly beside me and, stretching out very carefully, I reached for the sheet and drew it about us. And there we lay, she fast asleep, and I watched the sunlight fall on her golden hair and the pale skin of her shoulders, and I judged myself the luckiest man alive, and the most contented. And I hoped that she would stay with me, and I fell to thinking about what our life together might be like if she did. 

I had no intention of taking her for granted; not again, and not when we had made such a glorious and unanticipated peace. Her presence beside me now I could not take as a promise that she would remain there forever. What I had written to her in that letter that languished in a drawer in another house - my desire for our family to be reunited, and to live together in Gondor as we had done once - all that remained the same. But now I wanted above all for her to be my wife again, completely; and I perceived that now that this could not simply mean a return to how we had once been. I had some thoughts on how we might be if we were to be together once more - but there was, I thought to myself, only one way to find out if these were acceptable to her. I would have to ask her. 

Not that the opportunity presented itself immediately. She slept on through the morning and I dozed beneath her, glad to be near her, overjoyed that she was there again, but anxious that she might decide to depart once more. The day became hotter, but the sun disappeared. It was approaching noon and the sky was heavy and threatening when at last I felt her stretch beside me, her skin brushing exquisitely against mine. Then she raised her head, opened sleep-heavy eyes, and smiled up at me. 

'Good morning,' I said softly. 

'Good morning,' she replied. 'Have you been waiting for me to wake?'

'An old habit of mine. One I am not unwilling to acquire again.' 

She dropped her head and kissed my side very gently, and I sighed at her touch. Then I slid down the bed until we lay face to face, very close, smiling at each other. A long strand of hair had fallen across her face, and I twisted it about my finger, like a golden ring. 

'I have not yet been entirely honest with you,' she said at length. 

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. 'How much more can we possibly have concealed from each other?' I asked. 

'This is not, I hope, too devastating a piece of news,' she said. 'Simply that I did not come all the way from Edoras just to see the children. I wanted to see you too.'

I unravelled the hair from my finger. 'When you arrived,' I admitted, 'I had just finished writing a letter explaining to you the many virtues that would arise from our family being reunited.' I avoided, for the moment, the matter of her possible return to Gondor. It seemed a little soon yet. 

The corners of her mouth turned up and her shoulders began to shake. 'And where is this letter now?' she laughed. 

'At the back of a drawer in my desk in Emyn Arnen.'

'I am astonished we have progressed as far as we have,' she said, running her fingers along my jaw and drawing me in to kiss her. 

'And I am awestruck,' I murmured, just before speaking became very difficult. 

'You have barely changed,' I said a little later, rather indistinctly, I should imagine, since my head was below the sheet as I carried out my explorations. 'You are still so beautiful.' 

'You have not changed at all,' she said, which I thought was rather chivalrous of her, since I knew that my face was more lined and my hair more grey. I pushed away the sheet and turned onto my back, and she began her own exploration, running the fingers of one hand up and down my left side. After a moment, her touch seemed to linger, and I looked up to see what she was doing - tracing the line of the scar left there by a spear. And then she put her hand upon the other bad scar, the one upon my left shoulder, and then she kissed it, and beneath her touch, it no longer seemed the most important thing about me. 

'You understand,' I said softly, and she raised her head to look at me, 'that I shall never fight again?'

She nodded, and took my right hand, stroking the rough skin. 'I know.'

'And that leaves me in either Ithilien or Minas Tirith,' I continued, clasping her hand. 

She nodded again, looking back at me most seriously. 

'There is going to be war again very soon, Éowyn,' I told her. 'South of Rhûn. Which puts north Ithilien in a rather precarious position. Now,' I said, twisting onto my stomach and smiling at her dryly, 'As you can imagine, this is a matter of some concern to me.'

She raised an eyebrow to acknowledge that she could appreciate my anxiety. 

'And I believe my worries would be greatly reduced, if I could go and take a look at the northern borders.'

She drew in a sharp breath. 'Is that wise?' she murmured. 

'Oh, do not give up on me so quickly, Éowyn! Not you!' I said, and I kept my tone light, but the note of pleading was plain, and I grasped her hand even more tightly. 'I believe that I can do this,' I said, after a moment's hesitation, 'but I most certainly cannot do it by myself. Would you come with me?'

Her eyes widened. 

'It is hardly the most luxurious trip you will ever go upon,' I said, with a low laugh, 'not that I think that that would trouble you much! But... I wish very much to be able to carry out as much of my duties as I can - and I do not think that I can do that without you.' 

Her face was inscrutable, and a stab of panic went through me, that I had misjudged her mood, or her wishes, or that she might think I wanted her to accompany me simply to help me with my illness, which was not the case. I floundered for a moment, and the urge to stop speaking was very strong, but I resisted it, and pushed on. 

'I am not asking you to come simply to hold my hand,' I said quietly, and holding her hand. 'I want you beside me, and in my counsels. I have no desire to be parted from you, Éowyn, but I do not want a nurse - I want my dearest friend. My ally. My true contemporary.'

It was the best I could do, and so I did stop speaking then, although more significant in this, perhaps, was the fact that she had started running her fingers through my hair, which I had always liked a great deal. It was distracting me somewhat from my train of thought. 

'Is it something we might try, Éowyn?' I managed. 

'It is among one of many things that we might try.'

In the mid-afternoon we heard the first crash of thunder. The air was very close, but we remained wrapped about each other. At the sound of the thunder she pressed a little closer to me, and put her feet against me. I winced - they were freezing. I had forgotten that about her. 

'Perhaps we should think of leaving soon,' I said, with little real enthusiasm. Spots of rain were appearing on the window. 

'I would stay here for the rest of my life...' she murmured, closing her eyes. 'I would stop time, and remain here with you forever.'

I smiled to hear this most uncharacteristic display of romanticism. 'But we do have two children waiting for us in Ithilien,' I pointed out. 'One of whom will not forgive me should I break my promise to him to return by this evening.'

She opened her eyes and glared at me. 'I wonder when it is that you became so pragmatic?'

'I should imagine around the time that you began spouting poetry.'

She narrowed her eyes, and I awaited her comeback. 

'I wonder what hour it is,' she mused at last. 'The Queen, no doubt, will be wondering where I am.' She stretched her body out along mine. 'No matter. I think she knew I intended to seduce you.'

Serious contemplation of how that particular exchange might have been conducted was not something I wanted to engage in, nor was the thought of just how rapidly this news would travel around my family. If I did think too much about it, I might be forced to weep. So I laughed instead, and she smirked back at me. 

We rode out to Ithilien an hour or so later. The rain was falling steadily and, not long after we crossed the river, it began to come down in sheets. By the time we reached Emyn Arnen we were both soaked. I was still very happy, and I do not think I am assuming too much to say that she was also. So much desired, and yet so unexpected. I did not know yet how well my gamble in taking her north with me would work, nor whether she would indeed agree to stay with me. But, for the moment, I was content to subdue my mind to my good fortune, and suffer being happier than I perhaps deserved. 

***

A/N: Floor-sinking - I had them sitting in a walled garden eating stolen apples! How much more explicit do you lot want?!? g

Faramir's last line is lifted almost wholesale from _Persuasion. Can't you tell? The good bit of prose. He also quotes Douglas Dunn at one point. You won't believe how coy Faramir's been each time we sat down to do this chapter. I knew the boy was evasive, but... _

A little tired writing this one, but wanted to post it before it got late here. I have a busy few days up ahead. One more chapter left to go. Last chance for any requests! g

Altariel 


	21. Chapter XXI

XXI

It was difficult to judge what heartened me most about my husband's request that I join him in his journey to north Ithilien. His recognition that I was not - and never had been - content simply to be an ornament to his life signalled to me as profound a change in his conception of what he wanted from his wife as I could have hoped for. And I could only hold him in esteem for this decision which, given what had occurred at Poros, might cost him dearly; moreover, he had, I thought, shown courage in allowing me to witness this vulnerability, where once he would have hidden it from me. So it was that I greatly desired this journey to be a success, for it seemed to me that it would act as an indication of what to expect in any future we might build together. And I hoped that between us we might have success, rather than the disaster we had contrived when we had struggled on alone.

We stayed in Emyn Arnen throughout July, for the Steward's house was still no place for the children and, having been apart for so long, we both wished for time with each other without the distractions and intrusions of the city. And although I no longer bore such ill will towards the city - quite the reverse - it was Ithilien that was our home. I was reminded very much of the first months of our marriage, when we had been so contented together - but I decided that this was better since, as we had discovered in our speech together, we had both believed the other lost to us. And this time there were the children. Our daughter, it came to me, had until now not spent any of her short life here at her home with her whole family. When I remarked upon this to my husband, he became sad, and reached for my hand. 

'We threw so much away, Éowyn. Let us not be so foolish again.'

True to his word, he drew me more into his work and his decisions, although he was already so efficient it must have meant disruption for him to devote so much time to my instruction, and to refer to me so frequently for my opinion. But he denied this when I asked, and insisted he could not measure the benefits of my closer involvement. 

'A relief to have someone intelligent to talk to,' he muttered one evening, the only time I had ever heard him say anything even remotely disparaging about his staff - it had been a trying day. But I was glad he no longer had to suppress all his frustrations. 

We rode north in the second week of August. He looked, I thought, fitter than he had for some time; certainly since he had made the journey to Edoras and, if I cast my mind back, I thought also since that dreadful winter after we had gone to the city. I was glad to see him returned to good health and my own spirits soared as we rode through the countryside. During my time away northern Ithilien had become more and more settled and no longer felt like a border land. As we passed through this country, that showed evidence of the success of his governance of the province, his mood was cheerful. He spoke a little more about his chief concerns on this trip; judging the strength of the northern company, where its main weaknesses lay, and what reinforcements he would have to draw from the south before war broke out in the east. And then he spoke warmly of the Ithilien company itself, and reminded me of what he had once told me a long time ago, that I was held in great esteem by them. 

'They were all very keen to make your acquaintance.'

'I hope I do not prove to be a disappointment.'

'That is hardly likely, Éowyn.'

In his eagerness to be among the company again, I glimpsed something of the loss it must have been to be forced to give up even the limited contact he was now able to have with his men. I knew he had journeyed about Ithilien for a little while after first becoming ill, but he had not done even this for more than two years. I was, I thought now, not the only one to have been isolated in Minas Tirith. 

But as we drew further north, and the lands became emptier, he became quieter. I had been expecting this. His last excursion, to Poros, had been somewhat less than successful, and I could see how my own presence might easily become less a support and more of a worry. 

We came off the main road onto a pathway that ran for a little while alongside a stream, then dipped away to cut through woodland. We went on for a few miles, the land falling steeply, and then came to the entrance of a narrow gorge, meeting again the stream we had left earlier. There was a courier post here, where we would leave the horses, making the last mile or so of the journey by foot. After a few minutes walking, I reached out to put my hand upon his arm. It brought him out of his silent contemplation, but his face was pale and sad. We came to a halt. 

'So strange to come this way again after so long...' he murmured. 'Everything is the same - except me.' He sighed. 'One should not... _cannot remain in the past. I wonder if this was a mistake after all.' He bowed his head. _

I held his arm tight. 'Look at me,' I said, gently but firmly. After a moment, he raised his head. He looked wretched. 'Tell me what troubles you,' I begged. 

He put his hand wearily through his hair. 'I am not a soldier any more, Éowyn,' he said at last. 'And it seems... an insult to those who will have to fight for me to come and issue orders to them - and then return safely home.'

'No orders from you could be an insult,' I pointed out. 

He smiled; that faint, forbearing smile which meant he had respect for the speaker, but disagreed with their words. 

I seized his hand. 'Look,' I said fiercely, and pointed westwards. It was early evening, and the light had that unnatural brightness that comes just before sunset. We gazed downstream across the green meadowlands, the sun glittering off the waters of the Anduin far in the distance. I swept my hand from the west to take in the lands to the south of us, and he turned his head to follow my gesture. 

'No,' I said frankly, 'You are not a soldier. You are the Prince of Ithilien. You fought for this land for twenty years, and now you are its lord. There is no man in the whole of Gondor with such a right to order its affairs. And I do not doubt your ability to do so.' I reached up and pressed my hands against his face, and we looked steadily at each other, blue upon grey. When I spoke again my voice was quiet, but no less sincere. 'The worst injustice I did to you was to doubt your courage.'

Then I drew him towards me, and we embraced. I stroked his hair, and he pressed his face against the top of my head. 'Without you,' he said, his voice a little muffled, 'I am incomplete.'

'And without you, the world is a very cold place.'

We stood for a moment holding each other, in the still heat and light of an August evening with the stream running by, then we moved apart, and smiled to see the other's face again. I reached up to straighten his hair, and he brushed his thumb across my cheek. 

'Take me to Henneth Annûn!' I ordered at last, with a laugh. 'After hearing you talk so much about the place, it is unfair to keep me standing on the doorstep!'

And so we went up into the rock-chamber, and out onto the step - and the sun set, and I gasped in astonishment as the red light turned the curtain of falling water into a roaring shower of crystal and rubies, and my husband set his arm about my shoulders.

'Captain!'

We both turned to see who it was that had called out. Faramir's face lit up. 'Damrod!' I recognized this as the name of the man who now held the captaincy of the company in northern Ithilien. They clasped arms. 

'It's good to have you back with us, captain.' And it was plain from the look on his face that he meant it. 

'It is very good to be back,' my husband said quietly. 'But I am not here to supersede your rank - ' 

'I won't stand on ceremony then - my lord!' 

They both laughed, and then my husband turned and introduced me, and Damrod gave a slightly self-conscious bow. 'My lady...' he said and I smiled in return. 'Welcome to Henneth Annûn. I'm glad you arrived at sunset.'

'I always took particular care to do that,' Faramir answered with a laugh, and then they began to walk side by side away from the Window-curtain and back under the archway into the rock-chamber. And I found myself following them and looking at their backs. My heart sank. It seemed I was not here as his partner after all. 

Then my husband started and turned to me, his face full of contrition. 'Éowyn, my apologies!' he said. 'I am overwhelmed to be here and was distracted.' He stretched out his arm, and gestured that I should join them. 'Damrod,' he said, 'My apologies to you also, but I wonder if I could ask you to start again. The Lady of Emyn Arnen has as much interest in what you have to say as I do.' 

There was not even a suggestion on the other man's face that he considered this an odd request. He nodded amiably and began to speak again. I stepped into place between them and walked with them further into the rock-chamber. And that was the very last moment at which I was excluded. 

There were maybe sixty or seventy men there, and each, it seemed, wished to speak personally to my husband - and he to them. There were also several younger men, new to the company and with whom he had not served, and they were plainly awed to be meeting at last the legendary Captain. This title stuck and, despite his slight discomfort with it, he was forced to oblige the company in this respect. Regardless of his princedom and his stewardship, he would only ever be the Captain to the Rangers of Ithilien. And, as he had said to me, it seemed that the company were indeed keen to make my acquaintance, and I was glad to meet them, for they were brave and good men and, most of all, because they honoured and loved my husband as he so richly deserved. 

It was a most convivial supper and, in the conversation afterwards, a demand arose and grew for the tale of my part in the ride of the Rohirrim and the battle on the Pelennor. I glanced at my husband who, after what amounted to a couple of bottles of wine, looked extremely relaxed, and I raised an eyebrow to enquire as to whether he was happy for me to speak. He gestured to show that the decision was up to me. So I began to tell the tale, and I am not so modest as to deny that I made a good job of it. For although most of the men there had been present at the battle, and had no doubt heard and told tale upon tale about it, none, I think, had heard it before told in the fashion of Rohan. 

As I began to speak my husband, grasping straightaway how I intended to tell it, gave a low laugh. _'Incomparable,' I thought I heard him murmur, although as my story went on he leaned back and closed his eyes. And when I reached the point where the King was slain, he took my hand and held it tight, and did not let go as I continued to the end. _

When I finished, there was a short silence, and then a clamour of approval and appreciation. My husband opened his eyes and pressed my hand. 

They fell for a little while to talking about the rest of the events on the Pelennor, and then some of the younger men began to ask for an account of the retreat from Osgiliath. Damrod and I shot each other an anxious look, and he opened his mouth to reply, but my husband spoke first, and his tone, although mild, carried with it a firm and undeniable authority. 

'It is telling, I think, that songs are not sung about retreats - only during them. That is not a story for this evening. Besides,' he added, 'it does not make so good a tale as the Lady of the Shield-arm's.'

The talk moved on, with some of the older members instead recalling old battles and memories - some involving the Captain, and not all concerned with his career in the army. As the latter began to outnumber the former, my husband stretched out, stood up, and put his hand out to me. 

'We set out before dawn, Éowyn,' he said mildly. 

'But, my lord, our conversation is so interesting...'

'I am well aware of that.' This was the voice of the Prince of Ithilien, but his eyes were warm when he looked at me, and I knew his tone was more for the benefit of all those listening. I reached up for his hand and he drew me up, put his arm about my waist, and smoothly directed me away from the company. 

'Good night, gentlemen,' he called back over his shoulder. 

There was a small recess at the back of the cave which was partitioned off with curtains, and a mattress was laid out for us. I got into bed quickly and stretched out my hand to him. 'I thought we no longer concealed aught from each other?' I said with a low laugh.

'Some stories are better told without the embellishments of the Ithilien Rangers! Besides,' he said, taking my hand and coming to lie down next to me. 'I do not want to corrupt you entirely.'

'_Corrupt me...?'_

He kissed the tip of his forefinger and pressed it against my lips. 'Go to sleep, my beloved,' he murmured. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep himself within minutes. But I lay awake for a little while, listening to the whispers of the waterfall, and to his breathing. And I was glad I did, for it was not long before he became unsettled, and a sheen of sweat broke out across his brow. I drew his face closer to me, and kissed his forehead. His eyes shot open; dark and sightless. 

'Faramir,' I said softly, and he drew in a sharp breath and saw me. 'Fire or water?' I asked gently. 

He closed his eyes, swallowed, and then looked at me again. 'Water.'

'There is nothing to fear.'

'I know...' he murmured, clasping my hand. 'I know.' He took another deep breath. 'That never helped,' he said wryly, nodding in the direction of the waterfall. 'Thank you for waking me. I always hated disturbing the men.' Then he put his head down on my shoulder and I set my hand upon his hair, and so we slept, peacefully.

When I woke it was still dark outside, but there was a lamp lit in an alcove in the far wall. My husband was sitting beside me, already dressed, and had gently shaken me awake. 

'We need to leave soon, Éowyn,' he said softly. 'If you are still coming, that is!'

And I was ready very quickly, but not with undignified haste. 

We headed north with Damrod and two others. The sun rose from behind the Ephel Dúath and lit up a land that, as we journeyed, became more and more remote. The river bent away from us, heading north-west, and as the morning wore on, the day became hotter and the countryside about us emptier. We were coming to the furthest borders of Ithilien, to those bare lands that lay beyond the rule of Gondor. It had not always been so, I knew. Once the realm had spread as far east as Rhûn, and this centuries before my own people had ridden from the North. And I thought, all of sudden, of what my husband had said, when we had stood together on the walls of Minas Tirith, looking at the Silent Street and at his own and better gifts to the city. So very ancient, this realm - and yet so much that had to be done. 

Throughout the journey I spoke little and listened much. Between them my husband and Damrod had more than thirty years of experience of this land, and I wished to learn as much as I could of what they knew, to be more knowledgeable for the future. Now and again we would stop to inspect a place more closely, and they talked about what had changed since my husband had last been here, how the company was spread across these northern marches, how the defences might be improved. 

In the heat of the mid-afternoon, we reached a remote place, as far north as we would be travelling. Here even the heathland that we had been journeying through latterly began to fade. The lands ahead were barren. We were not even two days from Minas Tirith, and I was struck hard by how soon the border of the restored kingdom could be reached. We stopped here for a little while, and I walked a short way on ahead, but soon turned my gaze north and westwards. I caught, glistening in the sunlight, the silver line of the Great River, and just the sight of it was cooling in this unsheltered and unforgiving land. Beyond the river was Rohan, and Gondor lay behind me. We were at the very edge. 

I looked back and saw, standing very still with his arms folded, the Steward of Gondor, gazing north and east, deep in thought, watchful. After a moment, I went over to him. He did not look at me straightaway; his eyes remained fixed on the lands beyond, as if to interrogate them, to uncover the intentions of their peoples for the West. 

'This is our opportunity, is it not?' I said at length, quietly. 

He turned his head and his grey eyes fell upon me, still intense for a moment, and then softened. 'What do you mean, Éowyn?' 

'I mean... that what we shall do will be of consequence. For the lands to the west and the south of here. We could do something of great worth.'

He looked north again. 'Yes, we could. Very much.'

It was well into the night by the time we returned to Henneth Annûn. Damrod went to hear news of the day, and my husband went with him, but I wished for some time alone, and I went out of the cave onto the step to look upon the Window-curtain. The night sky was clear, and the country beyond was lit by the moon, which had turned the veil of the waterfall into crystals linked by silver thread. And I gazed at this most exquisite sight, and I thought of those lands beyond - of Ithilien, of Gondor, of the road that led to Rohan and on into the west. 

I heard footsteps behind me, and someone drew close, and then my husband set his hands gently upon my shoulders and began to speak, in a low voice. 

_'...the moon hung moveless in the night.  
And this it was that Beren heard,  
And this he saw, without a word,  
enchanted dumb, yet filled with fire  
of such a wonder and desire  
that all his mortal mind was dim...'_

His arms came about my waist and he leaned in and his voice became quieter.

_'...her magic bound and fettered him...'_

I put my hands upon his arms and pressed them. 

_'...and faint he leaned against a tree.  
Forwandered, wayworn, gaunt was he,  
his body sick and heart gone cold,  
grey in his hair, his youth turned old;  
for those that tread that lonely way  
a price of woe and anguish pay...'_

I put my head back against his chest. His voice dropped to a whisper. 

_'...And now his heart was healed and slain  
with a new life and with new pain.'_

And he kissed my neck and rested his head against mine, and held me to him. And the silver light played upon the water, and we looked at it, and into the west. 

'What think you now of Ithilien, Éowyn?' he said at last. 

'I think it is very beautiful,' I replied and, feeling him draw a breath to speak again, added, 'And before you ask, my answer is yes - I shall remain with you here.' 

I turned to face him, put my arms about his waist and looked at him most sternly. 'Surely you cannot believe, my lord, that standing me before the most beautiful view in Gondor and reciting poetry into my ear is a way into my heart?'

'And yet, Éowyn,' he murmured, stooping to kiss my cheek, 'you have agreed to stay. I cannot be too far off the mark.' 

We set out for our home early the following morning. Damrod spoke to me privately before we left. 'We were very glad to have you here, my lady.' He nodded at my husband. 'Bringing you here's the most sensible thing he's done in a while. You'll always be welcome among the Ithilien Rangers.'

The morning after our return to Emyn Arnen, I rose to find the Prince of Ithilien attempting to persuade his daughter to eat breakfast rather than throw it. 

'Some letters arrived in our absence that will no doubt amuse you,' he said when he saw me, nodding towards the table. 'One is from my uncle... Perhaps,' he finished, 'you might consider putting that in your own mouth rather than smearing it across mine?'

I judged that that last was more likely aimed at our daughter than at me, and picked up the letter which he had indicated. 

'Morwen already lacks any respect for me,' he said reflectively, wiping at his cheek. 

'I imagine that is because you indulge almost her every whim.' I replied, and glanced through the letter. 'I take it your uncle has had news of us? Is he very pleased with himself?' 

'On the contrary, he shows an admirable degree of restraint, and simply says how happy he is for us both. I am not fooled,' he said morosely. 'I have no doubt the extent to which we are being talked about in court at both Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith.' He frowned, before smiling again when Morwen smiled up at him. 

'Had you really not imagined that would be the case?' 

'Éowyn, I have spent a lifetime avoiding discussing my affairs, even to the absurd extent of not telling you some of the most salient facts about me. Of course I had not thought we would be of such endless fascination to friends and strangers alike.'

'Our rather public reconciliation most likely did not help matters.'

He glanced at me. 'I had not thought of that...' Then his face flushed in pleasure. 'Let them talk,' he said softly. 'I would not change that for all the world.' 

'Nor would I.'

We smiled at each other, and then he nodded again towards the table. 

'There is another letter there which might interest you - from your brother!' he said with a short laugh. 'He has written in Rohirric - he must believe some of my faculties are returning. You may have to decipher some of it for me - his handwriting is appalling.' He caught my look. 'As bad as my accent,' he added.

I picked up the letter and read through it. It was not long, but I am not sure I had ever before seen such an attempt at gracious civility on the part of my brother, and certainly not in writing. 

'I hope you appreciate the effort he will have put into this,' I said sternly. 

'Indeed I do, my beloved,' he said, and bowed his head, seemingly to kiss Morwen's hair but mostly, I think, to disguise what he said next. 'I can picture him clutching the pen in both hands.'

'Faramir!'

He gave me a look of complete innocence, and then became serious. 'I do appreciate it, Éowyn. And I promise faithfully to make an equally costly gesture. When I can think of one.' He stood up and swung Morwen into his arms. 'Perhaps I should simply offer him a full apology when next we meet.' He sighed. 'It would probably come as a relief to him as well. Anything will be preferable to spending the rest of our lives each trying to be more agreeable than the other.'

Later that morning I went riding, and explored again some of those haunts which had been my favourites when first I had lived in Emyn Arnen. The day was very warm, and became much hotter as I rode about the countryside. There was not a breath of wind. As the sun reached its peak, I went in search of cooler air, and rode down the foothills of the Emyn Arnen to sit near the river. I found a gentle slope, lay back, and looked out across the Anduin, watching the boats at Harlond. And then I looked beyond them, and gazed upon Minas Tirith, shining white in the sunlight. Straight and sheer rose the keel, with the Tower at the top, and I could just catch sight of the banner of the Kings. It was a beautiful sight. Soon we would be returning there, but my heart was not heavy, and I felt eager when I thought of all that we might do there, my husband and I. 

After a little while, I set back for home, riding slowly, and went first into the house, where there were some matters I wished to attend to, before going in search of my husband. He was sitting on the grass outside, surrounded by books and papers, with a look of deep concentration. He was very still, except when be bent over to scribble something. And every so often, barely looking up, he would lift his pen up and away from a new attempt on it by Elboron. In time, this game won out over his work. He had the pen held up above his head, and both he and our son were laughing as the boy tried to reach it, as I crept up behind him, jabbed him on the side, and his arm came down in defence. Our son, an intelligent child, seized his chance, and was off across the garden with his trophy within seconds. 

I knelt down behind my husband, and put my arms about his waist and my chin on his shoulder. He turned his head to glare at me. 'Traitor,' he said bitterly. 

I laughed, and then lifted my head to peer over his shoulder. 'What is this that you are working on?'

'That,' he said, patting the pages of the nearest open book, 'Is Adûnaic. Númenorean,' he added, by way of explanation. 

'I know that,' I replied. 'I do listen to you.' I glanced down the page and grimaced. 'It looks... unspeakable.'

'Not the easiest of languages, no.' 

'And you are translating it?'

'Not quite...' He seemed somewhat uncomfortable. 'This is an account of the life of the last Queen of Númenor, Ar-Zimraphel. I did a translation last year. This time I am rewriting it.' And now he was plainly embarrassed. 'In verse.'

'So the short answer to my first question is that you are writing poetry?'

'Yes,' he admitted.

'You read enough of it,' I said. 'It was only a matter of time. Is it good?'

'Not very!' he laughed. 

'You shall have to practice then. Before you force it upon me.' I ran my fingers through his hair. 'Hers is not the happiest of stories, if I remember aright.'

'No - she is forced into an unhappy marriage with her cousin, and then she is the last to drown when Númenor is destroyed.' 

I leaned back a little to look at him in amazement, and then I began to laugh. 'What possessed you to choose that as a subject?'

'I like tragedy!' he laughed back, shoving his hand through his hair. 'If not in my everyday life! It has... symmetry.'

'Less bewildering?' I asked. 

'And so, I think, less satisfying.' He raised an eyebrow at me, then piled up his books and papers into an untidy heap. I came and sat down beside him in the space that he had made for me. 

'Look what you are wearing,' he murmured, and reached to touch the pendant around my neck, tracing his finger along the line of the silver swan. 'I remember picking that out for you.' His finger stopped for a moment to touch the blue stone. 'The same colour as your eyes.' He brushed the finger over my cheek. 

'I did not realize that for quite some time.'

'It was the reason I chose it,' he said. 

'You always pay attention to detail.' 

'But I was still lucky it matched your wedding dress.' He looked at me severely. 'Wearing blue instead of white. I should have guessed you would cause trouble at court.'

'I trust that you would not have me any other way.'

He reached up his right hand to caress my cheek and stroke my hair, and then a look of concentration crossed his face. This meant he was summoning up the courage to say something that mattered to him. I waited. 

'On our wedding day,' he said at last, and slowly, 'I gave you my sword, to keep safe for our son.'

'I believe I may remember the occasion,' I said, tracing a finger gently down his cheek. He flushed a little, and then kissed the tip of my finger very lightly before continuing. 

'We have a son now - and we also have a daughter.'

'I believe I remember that, also,' I said, the slightest smile crossing my lips. 

He smiled back, but he seemed still nervous. 'I fell to thinking,' he continued, biting his lip, 'that since I can no longer bear the sword that you gave me in return, I might instead keep it safe for her.'

My smile broadened and became one of delight. 'Another shield maiden?' I laughed, caressing his face. 

He tilted his head at me. 'Or a scholar,' he said, tapping his papers. 'As she prefers.' 

'I like that idea very much,' I replied, and he kissed the palm of my hand.

'I have some gifts for you,' I said, after a moment. 

He looked up at me with interest. 'Yes?'

'It took me a long time to find them,' I continued. 'You hid them very well.' 

And now he looked puzzled, but all became clear when I took his right hand and then slipped the rings back on, silver and then gold. 

'There was no need for you to remove them,' I said very quietly. 'Do not do it again.' 

He sat for quite a while, looking down at his hand. In time, he looked back up at me. 'I would have preferred a wedding like this,' he said, a little shakily. 

'There were too many unnecessary people at the last one,' I agreed. 

'Thank you for being willing to marry me,' he said, and held up his hand. 'Both times.'

We kissed then, thoroughly, and then lay back on the grass, side by side and holding hands, looking up at the clear blue sky. And I did not think of the trials of the past, or even of the possibilities of the future. It was enough to lie there, and be glad of the present - the heat of the sun, the warmth of his hand, the sound of our children, the scent of the roses in the rose-garden. 

***

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this, and reviewed it, and been so patient as I dragged you through the darkness, and offered me such wonderful ideas to push the story along. This has been a quite extraordinary writing experience for me - the longest thing I've ever written, and the only story that I've never plotted out from the start. Now I have some time to go and read the fiction of all of you who have been so kind as to review as I've been writing, and also to catch up on all my outstanding emails! 

Thank you in particular to Isabeau of Greenlea, Joan, Kshar, and the Episcopal Witch who have so kindly let me use from their ideas and our correspondence. 

The quotation is from _The Lay of Leithian, Canto III, lines 542-556; in __The History of Middle Earth vol. 3; __The Lays of Beleriand.  I went hunting for it when I was planning this chapter. I couldn't believe how well it suited the story. _

Rociriel: I am simply not an erotica writer. But I would love to see any NC-17 Faramir stories that you would care to write and post! g 

Finally, I have really enjoyed the sense of community that I have felt across the past few months since starting posting here, particularly with all the people who have been following _A Game of Chess. Now that __Chess has come to an end, I really don't want to lose touch with people. So encouraged by my partner in crime Isabeau of Greenlea, I have set up a space on Yahoo Groups where people are very welcome to come along to chat and exchange ideas. I'll shortly be posting the essay about recent trends in LOTR fanfiction which the Philosopher at Large had on this site very briefly, and anyone wishing to continue or join in the discussions arising from that is very welcome to come aboard, or bring along your own ideas for discussion. _

So, if you want to talk about any fanfiction you've been reading or writing, brainstorm ideas, discuss the best nest mate for Hethlin, debate 'David Wenham - nice eyes or big fat Viking?', or even - gasp! - talk about the works of Tolkien, then come and join at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Henneth_Annun/

If you are unfamiliar with Yahoo Groups and have trouble joining, then send me an email - my address is in my bio page. 

Thank you, everyone, so much for reading and reviewing _A Game of Chess!___

Altariel

4th February - 13th April, 2002


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Inheritance **

It was late in the afternoon of my fourteenth birthday before I was able at last to escape my family. I went to sit by myself at the far end of the garden, under the shade of a tree. From where I sat I could still watch the others - and see if anyone approached. 

My younger brother was, as usual, utterly engrossed in a project of his own devising. I did not intend to get involved. Earlier in the month, to say goodbye to him, I had introduced him to fireworks. It had for a fortnight or so been our obsession - until the fire, whereupon the pursuit was banned by our mother. Father had been so angry he had not mentioned the affair once - but mother's wrath was enough for me. Had today not been my birthday, and if I were not due to leave for a year in Rohan the following morning, I suspected I might still be in disgrace. As the older brother, I was held entirely to blame for the whole episode, and judged most irresponsible. Léof, eight years old and small for his age, had only to raise his huge blue eyes from beneath his blond hair to look solemnly and remorsefully at mother to be excused all fault in the matter. Given his earlier whole-hearted enthusiasm for the project, I felt this was most unfair - but mother was not in the mood to hear my opinion, and I had enough sense not to offer it. 

I looked around now for my mother, but she had, it seemed, gone indoors. Father was still outside. His attention was, as ever, on my sister Morwen who was - as ever - talking. And I thought again, as I had often in the past, how my father and Morwen seemed to have a special bond. They both liked reading books, and talking about books, and she was much cleverer than me. She even looked like him. And she never failed to make him laugh. 

But with me he always seemed just a little distant, a little remote. It was as if I could never quite forget that not only was he my father, he was also the Steward of Gondor. That made him awe-inspiring enough, but when I thought at length about what it meant, and saw him standing beside the King and the Prince of Dol Amroth, he became almost terrifying. And then he would suddenly smile, at my mother, or my sister, or even at me - and he would become my father again, who had taught me to read, who had stopped me crying when I was small, who could sometimes be caught napping around the house and garden with an open book on his chest. And the difference between these two men confused me. Nothing about my father, it seemed, was straightforward. 

For as long as I could remember I knew that he would, now and again, be taken ill. From very early on my sister and I, and then my brother in his turn, knew that sometimes we had to be very quiet, or that there were occasions when father should not be disturbed. And by the time I was six or seven, I could see that there were ways in which my father was different from other men. I was pleased that he remained at home while the others went to war, since that meant he was always nearby. But I did not like the fact that, unlike my cousins and my friends, someone other than my father had taught me how to hold and use a sword, since he would never touch one - although he would often come to watch me as I was learning. 

But it was still a year or two before I made the connection between all these things, and when at last I did, it turned out that Morwen already understood. She is so much cleverer than me. My friends had spent the day talking about what their fathers had done during the war, and I had spoken about mother but, as we talked, I realized that I had no idea what father had done at this time, and neither did any of my friends. I knew he had not fought in the big battle on the Pelennor, but I did know that he had been a soldier once. I wondered if he would tell me if I asked. 

That evening, throughout dinner, Morwen was reading as usual - mother and father had given up making her put her books away over dinner when she had proven she could eat, read, and take part in the conversation all at once. And I was trying to work up the courage to ask him my questions, but he spoke first. 

'You're very quiet, Bron. What have you been up to today?'

I hesitated, but he looked at me encouragingly. 

'We were talking about the war, sir, and none of us were sure what part you played in it,' I said, a little nervously. 

'Oh, Bron,' my sister said, looking up from her book and rolling her eyes impatiently, 'everyone knows what father did during the war. He protected Minas Tirith just long enough that mother could come and save it.'

My mother seemed to be choking on her wine and my father's mouth was twitching. 

'I rather think the King of Gondor might have something to say about that,' my father said mildly. 

'And the King of Rohan,' my mother murmured. 

My sister waved her hand to dismiss their thoughts on the subject. 'And father spent so long doing that and it was so terrible that it made him too ill to fight any more. Which means he stays at home instead.' She turned back to her book. 'Which I think is good,' she added cheerfully. 

I looked uncertainly at father. 

He shrugged. 'It's almost exactly as your sister says,' he said, with a short laugh. 

It would be, of course. But I had not thought before that his being ill and his not fighting were linked, and I sat and thought for the rest of dinner, with a frown on my face. 

The next evening, father called me into his study. He had cleared some space on the floor and spread out some maps. I joined him there, sitting on the floor, and he told me about the retreat from the river, which was the last time he had fought. I asked him how it was that fighting had made him ill and he said again that it was very much as Morwen had described it. 

'It took so long to get back here, and it was so hard, that I was exhausted,' he said. 'And the thought of doing that again leaves me feeling exhausted again. And not just in my body, Bron, but in my heart.' He patted his chest. 

He looked a little sad, so I turned back to the maps and asked him more about the war and his whole time in the army. And he answered all my questions and seemed very pleased that I was interested. But later in the week he was ill, and I thought that perhaps talking about it was what had caused it. My mother, when I asked, said that it was more likely that it was close to the anniversary of him first becoming ill, but I thought it was probably better not to make him talk about it again. 

But I often wished that it was he who had taught me how to use a sword, or that he fought with the rest rather than stayed behind, or that he was, perhaps, a little more like my uncle. I even spoke to my uncle about it once, when we were visiting Edoras, and had gone riding together, for I could not think of anyone I admired more than my uncle. If he could make sense of my father, I thought, then so might I. 

'Your father's not the most obvious man I know,' my uncle said after listening to me speak, 'but he is one of the bravest. You can be very proud of your heritage there, you know.' And then he grinned at me. 'But not as proud as you should be of your mother's line!' And we both laughed. My uncle was so easy to understand. I could hardly wait to be back in Rohan.

I closed my eyes and sighed, and it was a few minutes before I realized someone was there. I opened my eyes and looked up at my father, standing with his arms folded, gazing down at me. 

'May I join you?' he said gravely. 

'Of course, sir,' I said politely, shifting a little to one side, so that he could sit entirely in the shade. 

'Thank you,' he murmured, as he settled down beside me, leaning back against the tree trunk, resting his forearms on his knees and linking his hands. I looked at him surreptitiously, taking in his sharp features, the grey at his temples, his cool gaze shifting about the garden.

'I imagine you're looking forward to tomorrow,' he said at last, his grey eyes settling on me. 'I know how much you like being in Rohan.' 

I shifted where I was sitting, feeling a little guilty. Sometimes he seemed to know exactly what I was thinking, but I could never judge as easily whether he minded or not. 'You make it sound like I hate being here,' I said, suddenly angry, my face flushing. 'Well, that's not true.'

'I'm sorry, Bron,' he said soberly, and frowning. 'It wasn't meant as a criticism.'

I flushed a little more red. 

After a moment, he cleared his throat. 'I did want to spend more time with you today,' he said. 'But you know what your sister's like once she starts talking.' He gave me a faint smile. 'Hard to escape.'

I didn't smile back. It was my birthday, after all, and I was about to go away for a year. He could, I thought, have made more of an effort. But I was not about to say this to the Steward of Gondor. 

The silence lengthened. He rubbed his temple. 'We are both going to miss you very much,' he offered at last, 'your mother and I.' 

'Mother might,' I muttered, but I knew how good his hearing was. 

He sighed. 'Despite my best intentions, I appear to have become the heartless father after all,' he murmured. 'Is there something in particular I have done to upset you, Bron?'

I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortable at the question. There wasn't anything particular, and now I felt foolish, and then angry with him again for making me feel that way. 'I'll be glad to get to Rohan, that's all,' I said, after a moment, and then could not stop myself bursting out, 'Things are less complicated there!'

I thought for a moment that he might get angry with me, but he just frowned again, and then asked quietly, 'How so, Bron?' 

I screwed up my face in frustration. I did not much want to say what I meant. 

'There's nothing you can say that would make me want to be angry with you,' he said, so softly that I almost believed him. 'Why is it less complicated there?' 

I chewed at my thumb for a while. 'Because there it doesn't matter that one day I will be Steward,' I said at last. 

'Oh, I see,' he said. He stretched out his legs and folded his arms, and then turned his head to look at me. 'Is that really such a terrible prospect?' he asked. 

I shrugged. 

'It's not that bad, you know. I quite like it.'

'Yes, but that's because it's what you are,' I said, with a slight tone of exasperation. 

'And yet, Bron,' he said gently, 'I never expected it.'

I had not thought of that. It was hard to picture anyone else in the role. But it would, of course, have been his older brother's part, if he had lived - and his brother and his father had died within a month. It would have been very different for him when he was my age. 

'If it's any consolation,' he added, with a wry smile, 'I did all my panicking about what kind of Steward I would make after I took on the office. At least you get to avoid that!' He grinned at me for a moment, and then became serious again. 'But I can see that living with all the expectation could be worse. I know it weighed heavily on Boromir at times.'

'What was expected of you, then?' I said, looking at Léof, and thinking how I had always envied him having the easier part. 

'Well, you have to remember that we were at war, Bron, which made circumstances a little different. But my purpose was...' he stopped, and slowly pushed his hand through his hair. 'Now I come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure what my purpose was. Stand there, keep quiet and do what I was told, I think!' He laughed and I smiled at him tentatively. 'Which made getting used to making decisions when I did become Steward something of a shock at first. No wonder I panicked.'

I looked at him curiously. 'Is that really true? Did you really panic?'

He nodded. 'Oh yes. I'm younger than the King and my uncle, remember - much younger. I felt very inexperienced alongside them. Then I found out I was ill, and they both went off to war, and I was left with a kingdom to run. I was petrified!'

This was a revelation to me. He carried out the job with such easy grace that it was almost impossible to imagine there might have been a time when he was as scared as I was at the thought. 

'What happened?' I said.

He rubbed a finger along his nose. 'Well, at first I made myself even more ill - rather foolishly. But then I came to the conclusion that I didn't have to do the job perfectly, just as well as I could. It got easier with practice. And here I am.'

He looked at me gravely, and then gave me a slight smile. 

'I don't want to disappoint you,' I said, in a small voice. 

'You never have yet,' he said. 'And I can't see how you would.'

I stared at the grass. 'I'm sorry about the fire,' I said at length, looking up at him. 

His eyes widened. 

'I know you're furious about it. I'm sorry I was so irresponsible.'

'What made you think I was so angry?' He looked genuinely puzzled. 

'You haven't mentioned it once. You're always especially angry about something if you won't speak about it.'

After a moment staring at me, he rubbed his hand across his mouth. I had the strangest suspicion that he was laughing. 'The next time my cousin Amrothos is here, ask him to tell you who it was showed him how to make fireworks.' He raised an eyebrow. 'I assume it was he who taught you?'

I gave an inconclusive shrug. 

'Admirably loyal of you,' he murmured. 'Perhaps it's best for all concerned if I am kept in blissful ignorance.' He looked away, and I was certain now that he was trying not to laugh. 'I couldn't possibly have reprimanded you for that,' he admitted at last. 'I would have laughed too much. I suspect that might have spoiled the effect somewhat.' He gave me a sideways glance. 'But your mother was so upset it seemed a shame not to let her say her piece.'

He looked away down the garden, a quite open grin now plastered across his face. I felt a slow smile creep across my own face. Mother talked a lot about growing up in Rohan, but father hardly ever mentioned his childhood, except to speak about his brother. I had not really considered much before what he might have been like as a boy. I had no doubt now who was the source of his cousin's expertise with fireworks, but I had to wonder where my father had learnt it in turn. From what I knew about my grandfather, I doubted it was from him. 

'Here's your mother now,' he murmured. 'I've put my life in your hands, Bron. Don't tell her what I just told you.'

I laughed and looked up. Mother was carrying something, what seemed to be a sword. 

'I imagine it took some time to shift the dust from that, Éowyn,' father said dryly, as she approached. 

'It was not so bad, my lord,' she said, sitting down beside him and opposite me. 'I have taken good care of it - as it deserves.'

She set the sword down in front of me and then spoke to me. 'This is a gift for you, Elboron,' she said. 'From your father and me. On our wedding day, he gave me his sword, to look after until our first son was old enough to bear it. We thought you should receive it today.'

I remembered seeing such an exchange take place at a wedding we had attended in Edoras. I did not know that my mother and father had done the same. In truth, I had not really considered that my father would once have owned a sword but, now that I thought about it, it was obvious. He had once been Captain of the White Tower.

The sheath was rather battered and almost plain, overlaid only with tracery in the shape of the White Tree. I ran my finger along it. 

'Does it have a history?' I said, for I knew the question would please him - and I wanted to know more about it. 

'Not really,' he said softly. 'No, my brother received all the heirlooms of the house. This was made for me. For Ithilien.' By which he intended, I am sure, no more than that it was made when he had joined the company, but now, I thought, it could mean something else. 

'And it defended Gondor and Minas Tirith for more than twenty years, and in their greatest need,' my mother added firmly. 'That is its history.'

I very carefully unsheathed it, gripped it, and then twisted it in my hand. The blade glinted in the sunlight and I admired it. And then, quite unexpectedly, my father reached out and set his hand upon mine, holding it tightly and, through it, the handle of what had once been his sword. His hand was warm and rough, and his grip was firm. And as we moved the sword beneath our grasp, I was not wholly sure if he was guiding me or I was leading him. 

After a moment he withdrew his hand and set it down flat on the grass. I sheathed the sword and laid it down before me carefully. Then he put his hands on my shoulders, and gently twisted me round so that we were facing each other; whereupon he leaned in and kissed my brow. When he drew back, he sat for a moment with his hands still on my shoulders, and looked over my face. And not even I could deny the love that was there in his eyes. 

'Each day,' he said quietly, 'you make me so very proud.' 

I looked back at him, and glimpsed, for the first time, not just my father, or the Prince, or the Steward, but the man himself; reserved - even shy, perhaps - thoughtful, honourable, admirable. I was going to miss him terribly. I smiled at him. 'Thank you,' I said, gazing down at the sword and touching the handle, and meaning much more. And I looked up at my mother then, who had kept the sword for me for all these years, and her eyes were shining at me. 'Thank you both.'

Then I looked at my father again. 'So,' I said, not quite able to stop my lips from twitching, 'if this sword was once yours and is now mine, does this mean we have a new family heirloom today, sir?'

My mother gave a low laugh, and my father's face creased into a wide smile. 'And I thought it was your sister who knew best how to flatter me!' he laughed. 

'We would not do such a thing, my lord,' said my mother. 'We are none of us so obvious. And we all hold you in far too much respect.'

He offered her his hand, drew her to her feet as he rose, then slipped his arm about her waist, kissing her very lightly on the cheek. 

'I am well aware you all just give me the illusion that I have authority in my own home,' he complained amiably, as he did all the time, and watched me as I stood up and belted the sword around my waist. 'You will each of you do precisely what you want, regardless of my wishes.'

Mother did not protest, so neither did I. We began to walk back towards the house, and as we walked, I put my hand on my sword, and he settled his arm about my shoulder. 

***

A/N: So this was written following a demand for 'something about the kids'. It's not meant to be anything spectacular, but I thought people might enjoy it. Thank you to Kshar, Isabeau and Dwimordene for giving me the courage to post it. 

Altariel

Come and talk at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Henneth_Annun/


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